Mending Words With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 5) Page 7

  She tried to catch the apple hanging from a string. It was difficult to do when Nick was cheering her on and she was focused on his damp shirt. On the third attempt, she succeeded. The smell of cinnamon must be some love potion invented by a benevolent witch. That would explain away her new awareness. Not entirely new. She’d ignored the current at the wedding, but the acknowledgment was as fresh as the hot donuts they ate. Maybe the apples contained the magic. After all, Eve had eaten an apple.

  They window-shopped in the craft and vendor booths. Everything from pens to platters was available in an apple theme.

  Zoe picked up a rag doll. “Isn’t she cute?” Red yarn hair topped the doll’s freckled, embroidered head. Her calico pinafore was sprinkled with apples, and an embroidered red delicious covered the spot where the doll’s heart should be.

  “Quite a-peeling.”

  “Are you going hard-core on the puns?”

  “Maybe, or it could be an in-cider joke?” He stepped closer.

  Zoe set the doll down. “Oh, I—” She couldn’t think about apples when Nick was in her space and she wanted him to stay there. “I have nothing.”

  “Then I win and get my apply-ever after.”

  Zoe picked up the doll again, mostly so she wouldn’t concentrate on Nick. “That was rotten.”

  “Don’t be a crab.”

  Zoe turned to Nick. “Fine, you won this round. What is your prize?”

  Nick looked her in the eye, then dropped his gaze to her mouth. Zoe’s heart raced. His gaze returned to her eyes. “I’d like to buy you something apple-ish to remember the day.”

  Zoe lifted the doll higher. “She is pretty cute.”

  Nick’s fingers brushed hers when he took the doll from her hands, and they both froze. Around them, people laughed, talked, and ate, but for Zoe, not even the bodyguards watching them registered at that moment. Zoe released the doll.

  “Shall I get her for you?”

  Not sure if she could find her voice, she nodded.

  Someplace north of Poughkeepsie, Zoe fell asleep clutching the doll he’d bought her. Nick yawned and wished he didn’t have to drive the rest of the way into Manhattan. The clock on the dash read 10:15. Blue Pines was closer. Nick pushed the Talk button on his steering wheel three times.

  “Yes, Mr. Gooding?” one of the bodyguards answered.

  “I am starting to fall asleep. Do you know if the detail roster has my parents at the Cottage this weekend?”

  “Just a moment, and we will check.”

  Nick waited until the bodyguard came back on. “Yes, they are, as well as your sister.”

  “Change of plans. We are heading there.”

  “Do you need to pull over and have one of us drive?”

  “No, I can stay awake for another thirty minutes. If I think I am falling asleep, I’ll let you know.”

  “We will be watching your tail. The first time you swerve, we will ask you to pull over.”

  “Fair enough. Later.” Nick pressed the Talk button again and instructed the phone to call his mother.

  “Long time, Nick. What do you need?”

  “I’m driving back from the apple festival, and I don’t think I’ll stay awake for the rest of the drive into the city. Mind if I crash?”

  “You are always welcome, and you never need call.”

  “I have a friend with me, one of Tessa’s bridesmaids. I’d call Sean, but . . . ”

  “I’ll have a room made up for her. Don’t bug Sean. He is still honeymooning.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Drive safe.”

  Zoe woke up as they exited the freeway. “Where are we?”

  “This is the exit for Blue Pines. I am too tired to drive the rest of the way. My parents and sister are at the house. I called Mom, and she will have a room ready for you. If you prefer, I can get you a hotel.”

  Zoe covered a yawn. “Your parents are home. I think the house is fine.”

  He should have prepared her. The house he called his residence was not a mere house. He turned into the drive and pulled up to the gate, which opened automatically. Then he drove up the lane.

  Zoe gasped. “That is not a house. That is bigger than the old Crawford mansion!”

  “My great-grandmother called it a cottage. In fact, the property is named the Cottage, but I usually think of it as home.”

  “You are kidding me. What was her other home—a castle?”

  Nick shifted uncomfortably. “As a matter of fact, it was. She was the third daughter of a prince of a small European country.”

  “Oh. So you are a prince?” There was a teasing tone in her voice.

  “No, she became an American citizen before World War I and renounced her place in the monarchy.”

  “According to my mother, my genealogy ties into British royalty—only, my ancestors renounced their country before the Revolution.”

  Nick parked in front of the house. “So you are a princess. That explains a lot.” Before she reach for the handle, he exited the car and raced around to open her door. “Welcome to the Cottage, princess.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. Or he thought she did. It was hard to tell under the exterior lighting.

  Nick took her hand and led her into the front foyer, aware that he was sending an obvious statement to his family about his intentions, even if Zoe didn’t recognize the significance of her presence at the Cottage.

  Zoe reached for her phone to hit the snooze. She was beginning to see why people hated Mondays. She wanted to dream of her weekend again. Not that her dreams could improve on the Cottage. Nick’s parents hadn’t made her feel uncomfortable with invasive questions like she expected, and his sister had loaned her a set of still-packaged pajamas. If it were not for the size of the Cottage, she would have thought she was with any of her friends’ families back home. They had even attended church, Zoe in borrowed clothes, as a family. The unplanned meeting of the family did not produce the cliché set of nerves.

  Her phone beeped. Zoe sat up to answer the text. Candace. Didn’t hear from you this weekend. Tessa said she saw you at church. What’s up?

  We went to an apple festival and stopped at Nick’s parents’ for the night. Not much.

  —So, was THIS one a date?

  The question was certainly valid. Until now, the shows, desserts, and even a football game party at his penthouse with some of his friends had been classified under the heading of hanging out.

  It may have been. I know I said I didn’t want to date him because of his money. But he is a nice person. I think I can trust him. He offered to put me in a hotel if I wasn’t comfortable with staying with his family. How was your weekend?

  —Good. I went to the house. Colin came (but stayed at Crawfords’).

  So, was THAT a date? Zoe tossed off her covers and started her morning routine.

  —Maybe.

  I think we both went on dates and don’t want to admit it.

  —Probably. I think I need another ten-year plan. Dr. told me I can make a fifty-year one.

  I don’t think I could plan for fifty, but it is nice knowing you can. Gotta run, or I’ll be late.

  —Hugs!

  Ditto

  When she got out of the shower, there were two texts from Nick, four minutes apart.

  —May I include you in my Wednesday-night plans?

  —Are you awake? It’s Monday. Come on, sleepyhead.

  I’m awake. Farm girl, remember? She wouldn’t admit she was running late.

  —Tuesday?

  I thought you said Wednesday.

  —That too.

  What kind of plans?

  —I don’t know yet.

  Zoe’s heart pounded. No mistaking this would be a date. Her thumb
hovered over the N for a moment, but the apple doll smiled up at her from the dresser, urging her to take a chance.

  Waiting for Zoe’s text was worse than waiting for the note in third grade to make its way back from the front of the classroom. Check yes or no.

  —Yes, please include me both nights. Any ideas?

  One or two.

  —Like what?

  I’ll let you know.

  —That is mean to do to a girl who must turn off her phone for most of the day.

  Sorry.

  —You are smiling, aren’t you?

  Only if you are rolling your eyes.

  She sent an eye-roll emoji. He returned a big grin emoji before stepping into the elevator.

  Sebastian met him at the car. “Good morning. I haven’t seen you smile that big on a Monday morning since the last stock split.”

  Nick handed his driver a bag of spiced, dried apples. “I believe you said you liked these.”

  “So, did you take anyone up with you this year?” Judging from the grin Sebastian wore, he knew the answer and that the trip to the festival had included a day at the Cottage.

  Nick got in the back seat, positive Sebastian would know from the security reports. “Are you going to stand around talking all day? I’ll be late to work.”

  Sebastian got in his seat. “I’d never make you late.” He smiled in the rearview mirror. “I wanted to know if I would get to see Miss Wilson again.”

  “Tomorrow night.” Nick checked to make sure his cuff links were straight. He had a habit of playing with them when he was nervous. He noticed he’d been fiddling with them more since Sean’s wedding.

  As Sebastian pulled into Monday morning traffic, Nick replayed his favorite moments from the weekend: The seconds when the world had stopped as Zoe handed him the rag doll. Kaylee and Zoe laughing about him—he was sure about that—on the back patio after lunch. Zoe’s blush when they said good night. He would have kissed her, but the fact that Mrs. Clark was watching from her window stopped him.

  He wondered if he would see Zoe tonight as well.

  twelve

  In mid-October, Zoe boarded the subway, no longer feeling like a wide-eyed country mouse. As she took her place next to a pole and read the morning news on her phone, her mind wandered over the past week and a half. The week following the apple festival, a new routine had started for Zoe—a quick text chat with Nick in the morning and a line or two during her lunch break. Some evenings they met for dinner, but others they only talked on the phone as either one of her projects would keep her late or Nick would have some business-related function.

  He hadn’t invited her to any of those yet. Zoe didn’t mind, as often the paparazzi was in attendance at the charity and political dinners and she was not ready to make a public statement about their dating. Publicity was one of the things she’d discussed with Nick. Knowing Mandy’s experience, Zoe was jumpy about the subject. Caught too often in photographs together, and someone would start invading her privacy. It wouldn’t take much to dig up the skeletons she wanted to remain buried.

  Friday night’s date had included catching a movie at the refurbished Blue Pine’s theater, which specialized in old classics with an organist playing at intermission. Saturday’s had been touring Sean and Tessa’s new place. At a quarter of the size of the Cottage, the house was still huge. The bare walls and rooms would be filled as they moved in.

  There had been a couple moments when she wondered if Nick would kiss her and, more important, if she would kiss him back. The first kiss had been a line in their relationship they’d both danced around. She had never told him why kissing was a line for her and was left to guess with him. But she had learned from blogs and articles on the web that whenever he dated, he avoided portraying the billionaire playboy. There had even been an interviewer who’d asked him if he ever kissed on the first date. She liked his answer. “I’m not the kiss-and-tell type, but somewhere around the tenth date, we will have shared a kiss.” The reporter had called him “Gooding Two Shoes,” but the moniker hadn’t stuck. After meeting Nick’s parents, she better understood his values. The only real difference between their families was the income each generated. Ansley Gooding worked farmer’s hours too.

  Depending on how one counted it, they had moved beyond the tenth date. She wondered if she’d unconsciously sent out some signal warning him off. It was normal to have her heart race before a kiss. Maybe she turned away too quickly, afraid she would relive past memories. But the nightmares hadn’t bothered her at all since she started ending her day with a good-night text or call to him. Next time he looked at her like he wanted to kiss her, she would meet him halfway. More, if possible.

  When the overhead voice speaker announced the next station was hers, Zoe closed the app and put her phone away just seconds before the doors whooshed open. Work was becoming a comfortable routine too. Although most of her work was still supportive in nature, Gina had assigned her a couple of comprehensive layouts to do for client proposals. All of them had been for pro-bono charity clients, but the thrill of designing something rather than completing someone else’s design was enough to make her stay late more than once.

  April met her at the elevator. “You look tired. Did you work late again last night?”

  Zoe signed back her answer. “No, I was up too late doing stuff.”

  “Mystery boyfriend?”

  “No, my cousin called, and we talked forever. And I am not sure he is my boyfriend.”

  “You text every lunch, talk every night, and go out. You started buying cute new clothes.” April pointed to Zoe’s new blouse. “He is your boyfriend.”

  Zoe hoped no one else in the silent elevator understood sign. She changed the subject as they got off the elevator. “What are you working on today?”

  “I don’t know. WD,” she used Mr. Dodd’s name sign, “called a meeting this morning for some of us. Must be a big project. He usually waits until Monday. You were on the list.”

  “Maybe we both get something new.” Zoe waved as they split off to their own cubicles.

  James stood near hers with an insulated cup. “Thursday morning caramel cider.”

  Zoe hung her coat on a hook. “What do you need me to do?”

  “What? I can’t get you a drink out of kindness?”

  She put her bag and phone in her bottom drawer. “I’m not sure. So far they have all been bribes.” She took the drink and gave James a smile. Being the lowest rung on the office ladder, Zoe had no illusions as to her place.

  James pulled out the color comp of a brochure. “The client doesn’t like the photos they marked in red. Can you find me three alternatives for each that fit into the current crops?”

  Opening her tablet’s calendar, Zoe checked her schedule. “I don’t have anything until a ten o’clock with Mr. Dodd. I can give you an hour.”

  “Thanks, Zoe.”

  She sipped her cider. “As long as you know how to bribe me.”

  Three meetings down. If he could find a way to eliminate meetings, Nick would be a trillionaire, not to mention the most famous man alive. He hoped Zoe would have her lunch break before Sebastian arrived at Nick’s lunch-meeting location. He started off the thread. Three meetings so far today. The vital part could have been handled in thirty-five minutes, total.

  Three stoplights later, Zoe responded.

  —I got to participate in my first brainstorming session for a new client. Mr. D is forming a team.

  Will you be on it?

  —I wish. But probably not.

  Why not?

  —I’m the office gofer and grunt. Too big of a client. But I liked the brainstorming meeting.

  Anything else interesting?

  —James has learned caramel cider will put him at the top of my list of people to do grunt w
ork for.

  A second text came before he could reply.

  —April says that’s wrong. She is at the top of my list.

  LOL. Don’t tell James about the bread pudding or applesauce donuts.

  —-Never. TTFN.

  Have a good afternoon.

  Sebastian pulled up in front of the building for the next meeting. Nick double-checked his calendar and the agenda he’d received via email. At least this meeting was to culminate in a vote rather than rehash old discussions.

  An hour and fifteen minutes later, a doorman held the door open for Nick to get back in the car.

  “Sebastian, I’ll pay you a $10,000 bonus if you get into a fender bender so I miss the next meeting.”

  His driver laughed and pulled into traffic. “Your mother pays me ten times that to keep you out of accidents. I am not giving up my good-driver bonus to keep you out of another meeting.”

  “Fine. Will you take the most-likely-to-make-me-delayed route?”

  “That I can do.”

  Nick sat back. Mid-October meetings were the worst. Budgets were either over or under target, and tempers ran hot. Half the boards he sat on rarely listened to him as they felt he was too young. He must have been asked three times in the last meeting why his father wasn’t there. And the entire time, he thought of sharing a bread pudding with Zoe. He hadn’t ever shared his food with a date, but Zoe had pointed out that they both ended up taking half of their meal home each time and food wasn’t nearly as good warmed up as it was fresh. There was something intimate about getting down to the last bite of a shared dessert and the inevitable no-you-eat-it argument. Nick texted Zoe.