In Nick's Arms

In Nick’s Arms

by

Tess Manning

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Vinspire Publishing

Ladson, South Carolina

www.vinspirepublishing.com

In Nick’s Arms

Copyright ©2011 Tess Manning (Previous copyright assigned)

Cover illustration copyright © 2011 Elaina Lee/For the Muse Designs

Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact Vinspire Publishing, LLC, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

All characters in this work are purely fictional and have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

ISBN: 978-0-9834198-1-5

PUBLISHED BY VINSPIRE PUBLISHING, LLC

To Jimmy, the love of my life

1Chapter One

Nick Bentley yawned and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, stretching the taut muscles. Damn, he felt like he had been driving for a month of Sundays instead of just under the forty-eight hours since leaving Chicago. Exhaustion had taken root a good hundred miles back, and he cursed his habit of pushing himself beyond his limits. Lassiter was still a good half-day’s drive away, but it wasn’t as though his business there couldn’t wait.

He shoved a hand through his hair, glanced in the rearview mirror, and frowned. The sea green eyes staring back at him were red and puffy from lack of sleep, the tiny lines attesting to his weariness. Adjusting his lean frame until his back and bottom settled comfortably against the seat, he scanned the radio until the sultry tones of Alanis Morissette filtered through the cab of his Chevy pick-up.

He glanced at the serviceable watch on his wrist, not surprised to see it was well past midnight. A gift from Kelly, the watch was quite a step down from the usual gold Rolex he wore.

Even the pickup, which lacked the speed and sleekness of his prized silver Mercedes, was on loan from his brother. But Kell had made Lassiter sound like a cross between a Currier and Ives setting and the homespun comforts of Mayberry, insisting Nick wouldn’t be needing fancy and pretentious accessories where he was going.

The perfect spot for someone who didn’t want to be found to get good and lost in. And right now that was Nick’s main objective. To get good and lost.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought of his identical twin. This trip had been Kell’s idea, even though Nick thought it was a bad one from the onset. In his mind, taking a sabbatical from his seat as CEO of Bentley Architects, Ltd. wouldn’t solve a thing. While he had every faith in Kell’s ability to oversee things in his absence, his problems of a more personal nature would still be waiting for him when he returned. In that respect, he could always count on Natalie.

He stared at the interstate stretching endlessly before him as the image of his ex-wife gnawed at his insides. Honey-colored hair. Eyes in the palest blue. And a body as lush as a man’s hands could handle. At least in the beginning. Fun, feisty, and a firebrand in the bedroom, Natalie had enjoyed carnal pleasures with a hot spontaneity that often rocked and delighted him. Pleasures she eagerly shared on a regular basis long before their walk down the aisle.

But no sooner had he placed the five carat band on her finger, he had learned her idea of matrimony began and ended with the riches and stature afforded her as the wife of one of the prestigious Bentley brothers. As long as she wasn’t required to do anything other than entertain at parties, raise money for social causes, and put in the requisite amount of hours at the country club, she portrayed the dutiful, loving wife. But behind closed doors, the only constant had been the turn of her back in their four-poster bed, and the marriage had become one in name only.

Fortunately the union had only robbed him of two of his thirty-eight years, affording Nick what he deemed the better end of the deal. He had given her financial freedom in exchange for freedom itself. But now, with the ink barely dry on their divorce papers, suddenly Natalie wasn’t missing an opportunity to try and ingratiate herself back into his life.

At first, the midnight phone calls were merely a nuisance, one easily remedied with an unlisted number. And the so-called house emergency had simply been an opportunity to greet him at the front door wearing nothing but the diamond and sapphire necklace he had given her on her last birthday. Even showing up uninvited at his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary had amused rather than angered him. For as many reasons as Natalie had decided she erred in letting him go, his appreciation had increased tenfold.

But it was her latest stunt, crashing the annual Bentley fund-raiser in a torrent of tears and childish pleas for a second chance that had both Kell and their father virtually insisting Nick get the hell out of Dodge. Not exactly the most convenient time to take a holiday, considering three of the firm’s biggest overseas projects were in the crucial stages of construction. But at the moment, Nick supposed it was the most prudent solution for all concerned. If not for his own peace of mind, then at least to spare the family any more front-page headlines brought on by the antics of an unpredictable ex-spouse.

Ah, the sweet taste of freedom, Nick muttered, finding it small consolation he wasn’t the first man to be fooled by cotton candy looks and a seductive voice. Reality was he wouldn’t be the last. But it sure as hell didn’t make Natalie’s betrayal any easier to swallow.

A pothole caught the front tire of his pick-up, jarring his attention back to the highway. He stifled another yawn and flicked off the radio. No more melancholy songs for him tonight. Or further thoughts of a certain blonde for that matter. What he needed was a cold beer and a warm bed. And in his present mood, either would fit the bill nicely.

As if on cue, a billboard boasting live entertainment and the best accommodations within the city limits convinced him to take the next exit. He swung his Chevy in the direction of the Wingate Hotel, its blinking lights beckoning him from a distance.

Within moments of parking, he slammed the door on the driver’s side and flung his duffel bag over his shoulder. The night air was cold, but he relished the brisk assault on his senses as his long strides carried him toward the entrance. Had he stayed in Chicago, the impending storm there would have him shoveling ten inches of snow at first light.

Inside the hotel, Nick sauntered up to the reception desk and let his bag drop at his feet. A young woman in her early twenties approached within seconds, flashing a smile of welcome in a beguilingly feminine face. Her auburn hair had been tied back into a ponytail, the sporty style contrasting sharply with her severe navy jacket and skirt.

Good evening, sir. May I help you?

Hi, Megan, Nick easily identified her from the tag on her left lapel. I’d like a room for the night, but I don’t have a reservation.

No problem. I’ll need to see some identification. She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a guest form, slipping it across the counter to him. If you’ll just fill this out, we’ll be happy to set you up, Mr…?

Nick Bentley. Pulling out a flat wallet, Nick extracted a credit card along with his Illinois driver’s license and handed them to Megan. Accepting the pen she offered, he turned his attention to the application.

You’re not from around here, are you?

He didn’t bother to look up. Just passing through.

I thought so. I’m positive I’d have remembered seeing you before. She punched in numbers on her computer before handing Nick his card and license back. It’s been a while since we had a looker like you around these parts.

Nick grinned, finding her backhanded praise disarmingly sweet. She couldn’t be a day past twenty-one and already he could foresee plenty of broken hearts in her future. Thanks, Sweetheart. He signed the credit slip and pocketed the receipt then reached for his bag just as she laid a room key on the counter.

‘You’re in room 417, Mr. Bentley. The elevator is down the hall and to your left. And if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ring."

Right now, he confessed, the only I need is a warm bed and six hours sleep.

What a pity when the night is so young.

The husky voice from behind sobered Nick instantly. He whipped his head around and caught a faint scent of jasmine. The shapely backside of a woman in black jeans sailed past him, her rich, ebony waves billowing half way down her back. She produced a brief glimpse of her profile with a saucy grin over her shoulder. Her playful laughter seemed to echo through his brain, and Nick found himself staring long after she had disappeared around the corner.

That’s C.J.

Megan’s voice brought him out of his stupor. Excuse me?

If you like country music, she’s singing at the club tonight.

Nick didn’t know the first thing about country music, and at the moment, he didn’t much care. The club?

Megan nodded. "Last Dance. It’s past the elevators and stays open until three."

Whether it was instinct, insanity, or a simple case of needing that cold beer before bedtime, Nick took a mere second to hand his bag to Megan over the counter. Thanks again. He shot her a conspiratorial wink. Will you see that this gets to my room?

* * * *

Nick took a long swallow from his beer bottle, using the bar as a backrest while he surveyed his surroundings with a dispassionate eye. Last Dance was in full swing tonight. In their fancy western gear and cowboy boots, the shoulder-to-shoulder patrons created an atmosphere of noise and activity that was deafening, if not inspiring. The polished dance floor brimmed with mismatched couples gyrating to a rousing tune while others congregated around the various tables, laughing and sharing anecdotes about their dysfunctional lives.

The song had barely ended when the band switched to a soft ballad, one Nick didn’t recognize. He wondered if he looked as uncomfortable as he felt. There wasn’t a single country CD in his collection, though he supposed he blended in well enough in his stonewashed jeans and shirt. And the scuffed boots added a nice touch of authenticity. He noticed more than one female within range eyeing him, their lingering glances confirming they liked what they saw, but he wasn’t interested.

He downed the last of his beer and pushed the bottle across the counter. Feeling strangely invigorated, he scanned the crowded room at a leisurely pace, searching for one lady in particular.

He didn’t have long to wait.

A pause in the band’s playing averted Nick’s attention to the stage. The lead guitarist cupped the microphone in one hand, holding the other one up in a bid for silence. Ladies and gentlemen, he announced, tipping his Stetson hat from his forehead, would y’all give a warm welcome once again to the lovely C.J.?

Applause and wolf whistles reverberated throughout the room as the mysterious lady in the tight black jeans descended on the stage in a whirl of passion and sin. How better to describe the most exquisite creature Nick had ever seen in his adult life? Her jet black hair tumbled sensuously around her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face, and her skin even from his distance appeared smooth and alabaster white. Though he couldn’t distinguish the color of her eyes, her full lips parted into a smile that lit up her entire face as she planted her booted feet squarely on center stage.

Her first song was a rocking, hand-clapping, foot-stomping number that sent her dancing and bouncing from one end of the stage to the other. She couldn’t seem to stand still for a second, and she encouraged the spirited crowd to bounce right along with her.

Another rousing tune followed, and Nick’s brain pulsated from the visual impact of her seductive movements. Between the flickering overhead lights and her own infectious energy, she appeared relaxed, confident, and unbelievably sexy. With a smile, a turn of her hip, and a saucy toss of her head, she was a natural seductress, weaving a spell of sensuality that was hard to resist and impossible to ignore. Unable to tear his gaze from the stage, Nick simply watched, listened, and enjoyed.

Eventually the lighting dimmed, illuminating the soft planes of her face and casting her slender frame in shadow. She closed her eyes, her smooth, husky voice blending passion with heartache as she crooned for an absent lover to return. The couples moved effortlessly around the floor, waltzing to the haunting lyrics. When the last note faded, silence filled the room for the breath of a second before the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

C.J. dipped her head in appreciation then slipped off the stage, moving through the throngs of people with a leisurely, cat-like grace. Nick watched her progress, appraising her with masculine interest from the top of her tousled head to the pointed toes of her sleek, black boots. Surprise rooted him to the floor to find her eyes trained on him with equal fervor. Within minutes, she’d be within arm’s length, and he straightened, intending to greet her properly.

Suddenly his line of vision was blocked by a lanky, red-headed cowboy emerging from the sidelines. Instinct propelled Nick forward, and he rounded on the pair in time to hear the raven-haired C.J. succinctly tell her admirer she was calling it a night.

Aw, come on, pretty lady, the cowboy coaxed with an earthy twang. Give ole Hank here a chance to show you a good time.

Sorry, Hank, Nick’s whiskey-smooth voice interrupted him from behind, but the lady is with me.

Hand cocked his head to one side, eyeing the intruder with open hostility. Quickly taking note that Nick was a good four inches taller and obviously in better physical shape, he held his hands up in a gesture that conceded defeat. Sure, Mac. He speared Nick with a lopsided grin. I didn’t know the lady was spoken for. You can’t blame a guy for trying. Tipping his hat to the lady, he leaned over and whispered something in her ear then gave a hapless shrug and moved on.

Dismissing Hank without thought, Nick glanced down to see C.J.’s shoulders shaking with unmistakable mirth. After a moment, she looked up, and he distinctly felt his heart slam to this knees. Her eyes were a deep blue, radiating laughter from beneath spiky, black lashes. She was medium height, probably five six or seven, the top of her head barely level with his chin. Her nose was slim and straight, her mouth full and inviting, and her jasmine scent undeniably female. The top buttons of her white blouse were undone, exposing the briefest expanse of flesh, and Nick fought the temptation to linger on the shadowed valley between her breasts. Common sense ruled out, and he gazed instead into the vivid blue eyes. Hello.

Hello, yourself.

I hope I didn’t interrupt.

Not at all. I appreciate the rescue, though it really wasn’t necessary. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s past my bedtime. Dismissing him, she turned on her heel but didn’t get far when Nick’s next words stopped her in her tracks.

What a pity when the night is so young.

She spun back around with one hand on her hip. Recognition slowly dawned in her eyes and, to Nick’s delight, her smile was back in place. "I see you haven’t made it