Chapter 18

Nick was pissed. Mavis and George Stone gave Edna a run for her money with their snide remarks and useless gossip. And George III, who preferred to be called Trey, must’ve grown up with Tom, the pretentious snob, because he talked down his nose to everyone. Except Marabelle.

Trey maneuvered so he sat on Marabelle’s right side at the round table, engaging in a private conversation for her ears only. Marabelle nodded a lot, grimaced a lot, and drank a lot. Nick understood her pain.

For once he was thankful for his fans who interrupted the table to speak to him or ask for an autograph. Nick had never been happier to oblige. Anything to break up the tedious evening.

After the fifth interruption, Edna couldn’t help herself.

“Have people no shame? It’s so rude to interrupt someone’s dinner to ask for an autograph. If I were you, Nick, I wouldn’t be so gracious, and maybe they’d get the message.”

“Mother. Please. Nick is used to it and handles it with amazing grace and charm.” Despite Marabelle’s surprising defense, she sat as tense as a tuning fork.

“Society has so lowered its standards when it comes to celebrities. Why, look at that tramp Miley Cyrus…”

“What about Paris Hilton? That dumb hotel heiress.”

“Today it’s all about the Kartrashians…”

Marabelle gave his thigh a reassuring pat under the table before slugging down another glass of wine. Nick buttered a piece of hot French bread and handed it to her, hoping it would sop up the alcohol pickling her insides.

Edna’s butter radar must’ve gone off. “Oh, Marabelle, no butter. You’ll get fat, dear. Remember the wedding gown.” Marabelle dropped the bread on her plate like it was covered in maggots.

Nick picked it back up and handed it to her. “Eat,” he ordered, “you are not fat.” Slipping his arm around her shoulder, he announced to the entire table, “I happen to like a woman with a few curves on her, and I think Marabelle is perfect.”

All conversation stopped. Edna’s mouth gaped open, and Phoebe blinked like an owl.

Ed broke the strained silence. “I agree. Marabelle is perfect. And so is Phoebe. Both my girls are beautiful.”

“Peyton Carter left Margie the minute she gained weight, after thirty-six years of marriage, and now he lives with a twenty-one-year-old.”

“Peyton didn’t leave because Margie gained weight.”

“No, he left her because she insisted on separate bedrooms and wouldn’t let him play golf with his buddies.”

“He deserved it.”

“You would think that.”

Throughout the incessant sniping and gossiping, Marabelle barely touched her food. She was teetering on the verge of getting shit-faced, and Nick couldn’t quite blame her.

* * *

Marabelle entered the ladies lounge, locked herself in a stall, sat down with her head in her hands, and burst into tears. Poor Nick. How could he possibly stand another minute? He needed to leave before it was too late. Her family gave new meaning to the word “dysfunctional.”

But Nick and stubborn were synonymous.

Maybe after tonight’s horror show, she could convince him to go. Why did that make her feel worse? Her eyes teared up, and then she hiccupped. Marabelle liked having Nick on her team. To fight her fights and beat everybody up, while she stood on the sidelines, cheering. She wanted to eat bread with butter and wear her hair down. She wanted to curl into his broad chest and never leave.

What a wimp.

She hiccupped again.

Exiting the stall, Marabelle faced the vanity mirror and stifled a shriek at her reflection. With blotchy skin and swollen eyes, she looked as wretched as she felt. She pressed cold, wet paper towels to her face and repaired her makeup as best she could. Reaching for the door, she swayed a little.

“Not good.” She gave her head a shake to clear the alcoholic haze. “There’s not enough wine in the world to make this night any better. I’m ordering another bottle.” She hiccupped, swung the bathroom door open, and stumbled out into the hallway right into Nick’s arms.

“Whoa… You okay there, honey?”

“Nick.” She gripped his arms to keep from falling. “You have to get out of here while you still can.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not gonna get sick on me, are you?”

“I don’t think so.” She paused for a minute to think. She didn’t feel sick…yet.

Blinking, she refocused on Nick’s gorgeous, kind face, gazing at her with complete affection. “You can’t stay. It’s not safe. Go…go home to Raleigh. You don’t want to get caught when they finally drop the net.”

Suddenly Nick picked her up and hauled her inside a dark utility closet next to the restrooms.

“What…where…?” she croaked as Nick locked the door. Complete darkness surrounded them, and the closet smelled of starched linens and industrial cleaning products.

“Shhh. Don’t talk, just listen.” Nick had her back against the door, and Marabelle felt his hot breath on her cheek. Surrounded by his spicy scent and warm body, she didn’t know whether to panic or relax.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” His whispered words sent tingles down to her knees. “And we’re not running. There’s still another half to play, and I don’t plan on losing.” He planted a hot, wet kiss on her neck. She was thankful for his weight pressed against her; Nick kept her upright. “We’re in this together, okay?”

She felt delicious nibbles on her ear.

“But…my family.” She could barely speak past the sensations bombarding her ear, neck, toes, and all her lassie parts in between. He kissed his way down to her collarbone and cupped her breasts over her silk blouse, teasing her nipples into hard buds with a brush of his fingers.

Marabelle’s breath caught.

He slanted his mouth over hers in a searing kiss that had her pulse soaring. A mewling sound escaped her lips as she tried to climb him with her legs. Nick hauled her up against him, allowing her the access she craved, wrapping her legs around him for even closer contact, wanting his touch…everywhere. His heat and hardness seared her. It took all she had not to scream.

Nick pulled back, his breathing rough and ragged. The rapid pounding of his heart matched hers beat for beat.

“We have to get out of here,” he rasped.

She shook her head. Feeling bizarrely vulnerable, she wanted to stay in the dark closet forever. She wanted to forget her family, the pressures from school, her boring life, and eat, drink, and breathe Nick Frasier.

“No,” she choked on a sob.

“Listen. I’m taking you home,” he said, rocking her gently. “I’ll tell your family you’re not feeling well. Stay here and pull yourself together.” Marabelle reluctantly slid her legs down. Nick moved back, and her body almost cried over the loss of heat.

“You okay, Tinker Bell?”

She nodded but realized he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Yea…yeah.”

“Good girl.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. Then he was gone.

* * *

Marabelle sat quietly on the ride home. Nick had hustled her out of the restaurant, but not before pulling their waiter aside, ordering an expensive bottle of champagne for the table, and picking up the tab for the dinner. He wanted to make sure the family from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest stayed occupied for at least another hour.

Nick had the top down to the rented convertible, the cool air being the next best thing to a cold shower.

The Atlanta skyline passed by in a festival of lights. Marabelle dropped her head back and exhaled.

“Why the sigh, Tinker Bell?”

“Thanking my lucky stars you saved me from a fate worse than death. Otherwise, I’d still be sitting there, listening to Trey Stone bore me to death with stories about his igneous rock collection.” As Nick pictured dickhead Trey in a white lab coat, giving a scintillating lecture on rocks, he burst out laughing.

She joined in and then hiccupped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Oh boy. “You gonna be sick? It’s a rental, so I don’t care, but I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

“Nope. Just hiccups. Only thing that got rid of them was kissing you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said dryly.

Another hiccup.

Nick snorted. “Darlin’, you’re drunk. Why do you think you can drink like a three-hundred-pound lineman, when you weigh next to nothing?”

Marabelle half scoffed, half hiccupped. “I’m not drunk. And according to Big Edna, you can never be too thin.”

He arched a brow at her. “Trust me. You’re drunk. And thin enough. Do me a favor and don’t buy into all that crap about being so thin your bones protrude. I can’t think of anything that turns me off more.”

Hiccup. “But my mother—”

“Talks a lot of shit. No offense, but your mother and her priorities are way out of whack.”

“Ya think?” Her sharp glare said it all. “Now you can see why I didn’t want you to come.”

Nick pulled into the Fairchilds’ driveway and turned off the ignition. He faced Marabelle and her big, Hershey’s Kisses eyes. “But aren’t you glad I’m here?” He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “To kiss away your hiccups?” he whispered as he pressed his lips against her delicious mouth.

Whoa. Her head swayed back.

“You okay?” He laid a hand on her forehead. Clammy.

“Fine. I’m not drunk.” She turned, hiccupped, and fumbled with the door handle.

Nick shook his head. “Here we go again.”

Marabelle tumbled out when he opened the passenger door. Nick steadied her on her feet.

“Come on. Off to bed you go. I swear, woman, I think you drink on purpose so I can’t take advantage of you.”

She swayed into him, grabbing his lapels. “That’s ridiculous.” Hiccup. “I drink because I get nervous.” She sniffed his clothes. “Mmm, you smell divine.”

Then she moved unsteadily toward the house. “Hey!” She whirled back, slamming into his chest. Nick swore as he propped her up. “Why can’t you take advantage of me? Trey Stone wants to drink rum toddies with me”—hiccup—“in Aspen”—hiccup—“in a hot tub.”

“Give me a freakin’ break. When I do take advantage of you, we won’t be doing it over dumb rum toddies.” Nick figured at this slow pace, the Fairchilds would be home before Marabelle reached the front steps. He bent down and pressed his shoulder into her stomach, lifting her up and over in a fireman’s hold.

“What the hell?” she said against his back.

“You needed rescuing.”

Nick carried Marabelle into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom, depositing her unceremoniously on her bed. He watched Marabelle scramble to a sitting position and try to push her skirt down.

“You’re lucky I didn’t get sick from all that jostling.” She frowned.

He bent and slipped off her heels.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Undressing you for bed.”

“You wish.” She scooted off the bed. “I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself.”

“Mind if I watch?”

“Out!” She pointed to the door.

Nick shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

* * *

Nick shucked off his suit coat and tossed it on the painted French armchair in the guest bedroom he’d been assigned. He slid his tie off and unbuttoned his dress shirt with a few angry jerks.

Abstinence was taking its toll. Since Nick had met Marabelle, his annoyance had risen to an all-time high. So far he’d only managed a few heavy petting sessions, topped with a lot of arguing and a shitload of frustration on the side. He’d never been one of those guys who took advantage of drunk women. But right now, that lofty commandment didn’t seem to be making its noble appearance.

Nick raked a palm over his face. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t just the lack of sex that had him on edge. He really, really liked Marabelle. They got each other. They laughed and talked…about everything. He respected her more than any woman he’d ever dated. The way she fought her way through life, trying to appear as tough as shoe leather, but treated her kids as if they were her own. And the way she held her tongue and didn’t tell her mother to shove it when Edna blatantly insulted her.

Nick peeled off the rest of his clothing. Time for another cold shower. Grabbing a clean pair of boxers, he was about to head into the bathroom when he heard voices in the driveway below. Frustrated, he closed his eyes.

Nick moved to the window and pulled back the silk drape. He watched Phoebe and Tom’s car clear the driveway, and then the fireworks began.

Big Edna and Ed started to have words, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out over what. Ed wanted to take off for the night, and Edna wanted to kill him. As the fight escalated, Nick’s first concern was Marabelle. She carried around more than enough emotional baggage when it came to her family. She didn’t need another truckload. He didn’t think twice.

Standing in the hallway, Nick tapped and pushed Marabelle’s bedroom door open at the same time. Silvery light bathed the room, enough for him to see her clothes tangled on the floor, as though she’d fought to get them off. His gaze tracked the scattered trail and landed on a lump on top of the bedcovers.

Marabelle was crashed out on the bed in nothing but lacy pink panties and bra, her heart-shaped ass exposed for him to admire in all its feminine glory. He appreciated the hell out of the view. Relief washed over him that she was sleeping and had missed the war raging between her parents. Doors slammed below, but she didn’t budge.

Nick eased the coverlet from under her sleeping form and covered her, mourning the loss of all that feminine fluff.

Tossing his robe aside, he crawled under the sheets and gathered her close. Marabelle murmured something unintelligible and curled into his chest as if she always slept like that. Nick kissed the top of her soft curls and breathed in her refreshing scent. Closing his eyes, he finally relaxed. A feeling of contentment poured over him for the first time since meeting her. He couldn’t explain the sensation, but knew deep down it was right. He drifted off to sleep with Marabelle cradled in his arms.

* * *

Marabelle was having the most delicious dream. Nick was kissing her neck at that very sensitive spot he’d discovered, and rubbing her breast, causing other body parts to hum the William Tell Overture.

A car door slammed.

What? She cracked one eye open to a mere slit. Soft light filtered through the sheers at her window. She closed her eye. Back to her dream. Cymbals crashed. Trumpets blared.

Wait.

Where was she?

A door closed below.

Her eyes sprang open. A husky voice near her ear swore.

This was no dream.

It all came flooding back. She was trapped in her mother’s house, spooning with Nick while he copped a feel. No! That couldn’t be right. Suddenly, Marabelle was wide-awake.

She turned her head, only to regret the movement.

“Morning, Tinker Bell. How do you feel?” Nick rumbled as she stared at his sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d dreamed about how he might look first thing in the morning. Her dreams were way below par. He was disgustingly sexy, and even better-looking disheveled with morning stubble.

She could only imagine how bad she looked, if her pounding head was any indication. She blinked, hoping to clear the heavy haze smothering her brain.

“I’m afraid to ask this…did you sleep here last night?”

Nick pulled her closer and started nibbling on her neck again. “Uhmm…mmm.”

She tried to concentrate, but her body got swept up in awareness.

“Yoo-hoo, Marabelle, time to get up.”

Until her worst nightmare knocked and opened her bedroom door. Marabelle gasped and not in a good way.

“Good morning, Nick.” Edna’s perfectly coiffed head peered through the opening. “We have a million things to do today. Breakfast in thirty minutes.”

Marabelle shoved Nick’s hand off her breast and scrambled for the covers.

“What time is it?” Nick asked casually, as if he always spoke to Marabelle’s mother while in bed, groping her daughter.

“Seven forty-five.”

“That late, huh?” he added dryly.

“Nick, how do you take your coffee? I’ll bring it up.”

“No. Mother, please. We’ll be down shortly.” This had to be hell on earth.

Edna nodded, unfazed, and closed the door with a click. Marabelle groaned. Bizarre didn’t begin to describe her life. How did she end up half-naked in bed with Nick in her mother’s house? Half-naked!

She turned to face Nick, causing the covers to slide down. She reached for them, but his hand got in the way.

“Where are my clothes?” She tried slapping at his hand fondling her breast.

“All over the floor where you dropped them.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked, wrestling him and the covers.

“Beats me. But you did leave your bra and panties on.” He smiled, taking full control of the covers and her last barrier.

“Huh?” Marabelle glanced down at her naked breasts. “Where’s my bra?”

“Well, now that is the damnedest thing,” he drawled.

Her gaze flew to his face. He filled his large, warm hand with her breast, and her toes curled.

“Sometime last night, you bolted straight up, squirming your way out of your bra like you were on fire, then flopped back down, dead asleep.”

He appeared guileless, but looks could be deceiving. “Why would I have done that?”

“Darlin’, people do the strangest things when they’re drunk.”

“Drunk?” Marabelle tried racking her hungover brain. She remembered driving home with Nick, then her memory got murky.

“Now, where was I?” Her muddled mind gave up at the sound of his velvet voice. Nick covered her with his yummy naked chest and went back to neck-nibbling.

Marabelle lost track of time, reveling in the sensuous sensations of being Nick’s next meal, when she remembered what waited for them downstairs. “Nick. That was my mother, by the way.” She could feel him smile just below her ear. His hand brushed over her breast, lingering long enough to ignite a spark before moving lower.

And lower.

Heat spread low and fast like wildfire through dry brush. Marabelle bit her lip to keep from moaning. He kissed his way down the column of her neck to her shoulder, to just above her breast. She rocked under him, and he captured a nipple in his hot mouth, creating a shock that made Marabelle jolt halfway off the bed.

“Easy,” he whispered. His hand slid to the top of her thigh, easing the elastic of her panties down, his fingers played with her inner thighs, and her legs opened with no further invitation. She needed…him…to… His magical fingers found the spot.

She clutched at his shoulders when he slid one big finger inside her, and her eyes flew open.

Nick raised his head. “Tell me if it feels good.”

“Good would be an understatement.”

“It’s going to get even better.”

Marabelle swallowed hard. This felt pretty spectacular. Nick’s lips trailed down her body, sucking, licking, and lapping as he went. When he reached her stomach, he played for a while, tonguing her belly button.

Marabelle panted. “Tickles…”

“I’ll make it stop.” He shoved her panties away and then bent his head and licked into her heat. Marabelle’s eyes rolled back inside her head. She stiffened for one brief second, and then molten lava consumed her. Marabelle clutched the sheets as her lungs seized. “Yes…there.” The flick of his tongue caused a pulsing vibration that shook her body. Tension started deep in her belly and grew tighter and tighter. Marabelle’s back arched, and her pleasure escalated until she shattered, crying out.

Collapsing back into the bed, she was unable to do anything but feel.

Nick pulled her panties back up, kissing his way up her belly before stretching out beside her. She turned her head, blinking at him in wonder.

“I think I had an orgasm,” she said in awe.

He flashed his killer smile. “I know you did.”

She touched his cheek and saw Nick’s face, tender and intent. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured, and his gaze locked with hers, glowing with heat and something else…

Worried, she whispered, “What about you?” He swooped down for another kiss, slipping his tongue inside, but quickly breaking the connection.

“Cold shower. Mother waiting,” he managed in a rough voice, looking as whacked as she felt.

Reality slapped Marabelle in the face. “Oh God.”

Nick planted a kiss on her nose and slipped from the bed, wearing black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his erection. She peeled her eyes from that impressive sight in time to ogle the rest of his glorious physique. His fluid motions made hard muscles ripple just under the surface as he moved. Nick closed the bedroom door behind him, and Marabelle shook her head, which she instantly regretted. Her head still throbbed…and not in a good way.

Even after she’d showered and dressed, Marabelle still tingled from her first fantastic orgasm. Details from the night before eluded her, but she didn’t care. A very hot, totally ripped, fascinating guy waited for her downstairs, and for once, she wasn’t going to overanalyze it. There’d be plenty of time for hand-wringing, forehead-slapping, head-banging regret. But right now, in Atlanta, she’d pull a Scarlett O’Hara and worry about that tomorrow.

In the large country kitchen, a freshly showered Nick was already seated at the breakfast table. Marabelle stopped at the entrance and admired him in all his stubbled, hunky glory.

Ed peered over the morning paper. “Good morning, Marabelle. Did you sleep well?”

She had no idea.

“Uh…fine.” A sharp pain attacked the backs of her eyes, and she winced.

“Headache, dear?” Edna handed her a bottle of Advil with a glass of water.

Edna served scrambled eggs with a side of bacon, buttered toast, and freshly squeezed orange juice to Nick. For Marabelle, a small scoop of cottage cheese and four fresh strawberries on the side.

No eggs. No bacon. No butter. No flavor.

“Nick, how about a round of golf today? Marabelle can join us if you two don’t want to be separated,” Ed suggested.

“Not today, Ed. I’m taking Marabelle shopping at Neiman’s. We have a lot of ground to cover for the wedding.” Edna continued to map out a day from hell that didn’t help Marabelle’s aching head, until her mother and Ed started bickering. Then she thought her head would explode.

Embarrassed that Nick was a witness to her family’s twisted dynamics, Marabelle only played with her food. Cottage cheese tended to make her gag. Not the best breakfast to feed a hangover. To her surprise, Nick switched plates with her.

“What are you doing?” she asked under her breath.

“I like cottage cheese. Eat your breakfast so you can survive this day,” he said low, spearing a strawberry.

Edna stopped nagging Ed long enough to monitor Marabelle’s food intake. “Why are you eating Nick’s breakfast? There’s butter in those eggs, dear.”

“I insisted. Don’t want my fiancée weak from hunger. From the sounds of things, she’s going to need to be in top shape,” Nick said.

“About that golf—”

Edna glared at Ed. “Absolutely not. I’ve scheduled an appointment for Marabelle to get her hair cut and styled so it won’t look so…so wild.” Marabelle grabbed Nick’s thigh under the table with her fork paralyzed halfway to her mouth.

“Eat, babe,” he encouraged softly. Then Nick blasted Big Edna with his cocky grin. “The first thing I noticed about Tinker Bell was her beautiful curls. It’s one of the things I love about her. A man’s real particular about the way his woman wears her hair.” The more he spoke, the thicker his drawl.

“Here’s what I think we should do today.” He pinned Edna with his take-charge stare. “Let’s hit the stores until lunch time. After that, Marabelle, Ed, and I would like to play a few holes of golf before the benefit tonight. How does that sound to everyone?”

Ed gave a knowing wink. Marabelle hid the triumph in her eyes by concentrating on her food. And Big Edna gave an excellent impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

Upstairs after breakfast, Marabelle cornered Nick in the hallway before she headed back down to face her mother’s wrath. “If I have to be tortured today, then so do you,” she said, poking a hole in his chest with her finger. “You’re not going off with my dad and leaving me with Mommy Dearest.” Ed had offered to take Nick to the club for the morning, leaving Marabelle to her mother’s evil devices.

“Afraid of her, huh?” He chuckled.

“Terrified.”

“Marabelle, you ready?” Edna called up. “I want to show you these adorable hats. They say Bride and Groom on the front in sequins.”

Nick’s eyes widened in alarm. Snagging her hand, he yanked her toward the stairs. “Shit. Let’s go!”