Married By Midnight

“The look?”

“You know what I mean,” Dolly said. “He got an eyeful of you, and he liked what he saw. Believe me, I know.”

Yes, Dolly did know. She had an uncanny ability to read people’s expressions. Her intuition ran far deeper than Amanda’s ever had.

But Amanda didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might be right.

“I came here with the intention of avoiding Nick,” Amanda declared. “That’s what I intend to do. Now, I’d better get on with the day. Maybe I can hurry this wedding along, get it over with sooner, somehow. The quicker I get back home the happier I’ll be.”

“You’re gonna avoid Mr. Nick?” Dolly gave her a knowing look. “We’ll just see about that….”

Nothing like making a good impression.

Nick gave his necktie a tweak as he trotted downstairs, cringing inwardly at what had happened in his room. A beautiful woman in front of him and he’d had no trousers on.

He paused at the bottom of the steps. The situation could have turned out much more embarrassing. In fact, it almost had.

The warmth that had simmered in him since Amanda had sashayed out of his bedchamber increased a little more. She’d had on a dressing gown, buttoned up to her throat and cinched at her waist. But those curves of hers, hips and breasts clearly defined by the flow of fabric, with none of the armor of underwear most women insisted upon wearing to disguise their shape and keep him from seeing their figure…

When he’d gone to Amanda’s bedchamber to apologize, he’d gotten close enough to smell her. He’d almost made a complete fool of himself all over again.

Nick ground his teeth together and hurried toward the breakfast room. Enough of those thoughts. He had a lot to do today, and remembering a beautiful woman like Amanda in her dressing gown would only keep him from thinking straight.

The comfortable, sunny yellow breakfast room was situated at the back of the house. Windows offered views of the grounds. Since it was early, none of the other houseguests were up yet, which suited Nick fine.

A servant in a gray uniform and crisp white apron came in as Nick sat down at the head of the table. She filled his cup from the silver service on the buffet and presented him with the morning newspaper. He told her what he wanted for breakfast and she left again.

Unfurling the paper, he reached for his cup. A fragrance tickled his nose. It wasn’t the coffee.

Amanda stood in the doorway.

In contrast to earlier, her hair was done up atop her head, with little tendrils curling at her ears. She wore a pale blue gown. The skirt was drawn across her front, then lifted high to a bustle in the back. The toes of her high buttoned shoes peeked from beneath the skirt. Leg-o’-mutton sleeves on her jacket tapered to her wrists.

“Good morning.” Nick lurched to his feet, catching the newspaper before it slipped to the floor.

A few seconds passed while Amanda just stood there, as if reluctant to enter the room. Finally, she did.

“I see you’ve dressed for breakfast,” she said.

Nick stepped away from the table, looked down and tapped his toes on the floor. “Shoes and socks this time.”

She glanced down and he could have sworn her cheeks colored. Odd reaction to his feet, he thought.

Nick held the chair to his immediate right, and Amanda lowered herself into it. He lingered for a moment, looking down at her, held captive by the long line of her neck, the loose curls of her fine hair, her slim shoulders and the scent that wafted up.

“Is something wrong?” Amanda asked, turning her head to look back at him.

“No, nothing,” Nick said, fearing that he’d moaned aloud or something. He gave her a quick smile.

She smiled, too—a lovely, shy little smile. Nick dropped into his chair and picked up his napkin. It seemed a good idea to have something over his lap at the moment.

The servant came in again and poured juice at Amanda’s request. She declined a hot breakfast, preferring pastries and fruit from the platter already on the table.

“Don’t let me disturb you,” she said to Nick, nodding toward the newspaper beside his plate.

He was quite certain nothing the Times reported today could be as interesting as the woman seated at his elbow.

“No, it’s all right. I can read later—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Amanda pulled a tiny tablet and the nub of a pencil from her skirt pocket and turned her attention to them.

For some reason, that didn’t quite suit him. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier,” he said.

“It’s all right.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” She glanced up at him, then turned back to her tablet once more.

“Yes, it has,” he echoed, and couldn’t help but think he was usually better at talking to women than this.

“How’s your family?” Nick asked.

“Quite well, thank you.”

A few more minutes dragged by.

“Are you planning to be in town long?” he asked.

“No,” Amanda said. “I’ll be going home immediately after the wedding.”

Nick wasn’t certain what he was doing wrong. He’d never had to work this hard at conversation in his life.

Generally, women fell all over him, hanging on his every word, giggling at his jokes. This one, however, didn’t seem to care if he sat here with her or not. Somehow, that made him try harder.

“I guess you’ll help out with all the last-minute wedding preparations today?” he asked.

That got a bigger response from Amanda than he’d elicited so far, but it wasn’t favorable. She cringed, held up her hand as if to ward off the possibility, and gave herself a little shake.

“I fear that will be my doom—destiny,” she said, and turned back to her tablet.

Nick was about to run out of small talk. Maybe if he knew what his competition was, he’d be better able to hold her attention, he decided.

He tilted his head to get a look at the tablet she was writing on, and saw that she’d made a list of some sort.

Probably some litany of the inane things women spent their time on. Nick leaned closer, unable not to. Lord, she smelled delightful. Lavender or something.

Just then Amanda sat back and frowned. She gave a breathy little sigh.