Nash

I’d barely wrapped a towel around my waist when my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with an image of the twins that always made me smile, no matter how preoccupied my mind. “Hey, Eva. You’re up early.”

“Try explaining that to Madison and Parker, will you? Their preschool doesn’t start until nine thirty, so you would think waking up before dawn wouldn’t be necessary.” There was a pause while Eva took a sip of what I assumed to be coffee, before she continued. “Although maybe they’re right. Even with nearly four hours to get ready, somehow we’re still always late.”

“I’ve offered to hire a nanny for you a million times, Eva. If you need help in the mornings, I’d be happy to—”

“No, no.” Eva immediately objected. “You know how I feel about hiring a stranger to take care of my kids.”

I did know. She was determined to make up for the fact that the twins were growing up without a father by being Super Mom. I respected her for it, but I worried, too. Sure, she allowed family to help her. But Eva was an only child, and her parents had passed away last year. The twins’ only set of grandparents lived in Florida and I worked a minimum of eighty hours a week. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“The kids will be in full-day kindergarten next year, I’m on the home stretch,” she said, her tone more wistful than excited. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in. Should we meet at the airport tomorrow or will you pick us up on the way?”

“Airport?” And then I remembered. Thanksgiving in Bermuda. I trip I had absolutely no intention of going on, but had forgotten to cancel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Did you forget?”

“No,” I lied, gnashing my teeth as I plowed a hand through hair I’d just combed into submission. There was no way I could bow out now. “I’ll pick you up on the way. Want me to come upstairs and help with the kids?”

She laughed. “No. Once they see their suitcases, I’ll be lucky if they get any sleep at all. I’ll probably be waiting in the lobby before you even leave your place.”

Outside the door I smelled fresh coffee brewing, could hear Nixie puttering around in the kitchen. No way I could leave her here, either. What a fucking mess. “Uh, Eva . . . I might need to bring someone with us.”

“Who, Jay? I think he’s going to his sister’s after he drops us off at the airport.”

“No, not Jay.”

Interest piqued Eva’s voice. “Who?”

“A friend.”

“A friend like one of your cute boxing buddies or—”

Imagining any of the guys I sparred with hanging around Eva and the kids sent a wave of heat through my veins. “I don’t have cute boxing buddies.”

She laughed. “Says you.”

“She’s having trouble with her douchebag ex-boyfriend. I won’t leave her here alone.”

“No, of course not.” I heard a crash in the background. “Oh no, Parker, why didn’t you let Mommy pour your orange juice? Here, say hi to your Uncle Nash while I clean this up.”

Parker’s tear-clogged voice came on the line. “I spilled,” he moaned.

“I know, buddy. Maybe you should ask for help when you need it, okay?” I left the bathroom and took a suit from the closet, talking to Parker and then Madison as I got dressed.

“I didn’t make any spills this morning, Uncle Nash. I was really careful because I’m wearing my favorite dress. Want to know what color it is?”

“Hmmm. I’ll bet it’s blue.”

“No!”

“Green?”

“No!”

“Oh, I know. It’s brown, right?”

Her peal of laughter vaulted through the phone. “It’s pink!”

“But that’s my favorite color,” I teased.

“Don’t worry, we can share. Mommy says we have to go now. I love you, Uncle Nash.”

“I love you too, Maddie.” The smile still on my face, I ended the call and stepped into the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee and a lobotomy.

Nixie was there, her back to the cabinets, lips curved around the edge of a mug. “Little Miss Pinkalicious?” she asked, eyes like melted butterscotch.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“She’s adorable.”

“And she knows it, too.”

Nixie lifted her mug. “Coffee?”

“That would be great.” When she turned, I cleared my throat and jumped in. “So, do you have a passport?”

The pot rattled against porcelain. “No, why?”

“After I leave, I’m going to send Jay back here for you. There’s a one-day passport office in midtown. He’ll take you.”

“Cream or sugar?”

I shook my head and she handed me the cup. “Thanks.”

“Why do I need a passport, Nash?”

“Ever been to Bermuda?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Me neither. But it’s where we’re spending Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving? That’s . . .”

“This Thursday,” I finished.

Her shoulders hiked up an inch at my sarcasm. “What would I do about Kismet?”

“I’ll have my assistant look into whatever is required to bring her with us.”

She looked away, blinked. “I can’t believe the holidays are here so soon.” Her gaze turned back to me. “Who’s we?”

“Eva, the twins, my parents, a few friends. Us.”

“Us? You told me yourself, there is no us, Nash. I’m not going to Bermuda with you.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone while I’m in the Caribbean.”

“Well, I’m not going to the Caribbean.”

I choked on a swallow of the hot coffee. “Fine. Then you can explain to Madison and Parker why their uncle isn’t there to build sandcastles on the beach with them.”

She tilted her head, skeptical. “Oh please, I’m sure there will be a nanny, maybe two, to play with them all day long.”

I shook my head. “Nope. No nanny. Just their mom.” I checked my watch and set down the mug, shrugging into the suit jacket I’d left on the back of a barstool. “And me.”

Running a tongue over her teeth, Nixie gave me a long look before turning away. “I’ll think about it.”

Nixie

The door closed behind Nash and it immediately felt as if he’d taken all the energy in the room with him. I picked up my mug and took a tentative sip, wishing it were something stronger. Better yet, something to make me stronger.

It didn’t help that I now knew more about Nash Knight than I should. To distract myself from opening the bathroom door and leaping into the shower with him, I had made the mistake of doing another Google search and actually clicking through a few of the links this time. I told myself it was only because he’d obviously done the exact same thing to me, but whatever my motives, now I was even more conflicted about Nash than I’d been before, which should have been impossible.

What I’d discovered was that the man was a walking contradiction. Nash Knight’s business successes were legendary. From nothing, he’d become a millionaire in his early twenties and, according to the Wall Street Journal, as a result of several shrewd and daring investments, he was widely expected to join the billionaire boys club sooner rather than later.

Some media outlets had called him a greedy vulture. A heartless tycoon.

Others had lauded his philanthropic efforts with at-risk youths, painting him as a modern day Robin Hood. A champion of kids eager for a helping hand, not a handout.

The society pages swooned over Nash, calling him Wall Street’s most eligible—and uncatchable—bachelor. He’d been photographed with at least a dozen beautiful women in the past two months.

Not long ago, I’d called Nash a Master of the Universe, thinking I was being tongue-in-cheek. The phrase was more apt than I knew, but he was so much more than that. A Good Samaritan. An overprotective ally who spent nearly an hour letting me kick and hit him all in the name of self-defense. A stubborn, egotistical chauvinist with too much sex appeal for his own good.

And an uncle to a pair of adorable four-year-olds. It was hard to reconcile the man who wore all those other titles with the one who spoke of building sandcastles. Who had just reminded his nephew to wash his hands after going to the bathroom. Who carried his niece on his back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And now this same man expected me to go away with him, with his family and friends, to celebrate my second most detested day of the year. Thanksgiving.

When my parents were alive, we used to spend the entire day in the kitchen, cooking together. My father taught me how to slather the turkey with butter, even beneath the skin, and cover it with cheesecloth, basting it every hour. With my mother, I learned to make sweet potatoes flavored with cinnamon and nutmeg, a layer of marshmallows on top, and cornbread stuffing with apples and fresh sage. It was just the three of us, and while the food cooked, we sat at the kitchen table and played board games. Candyland and Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit Junior. Back then, it was one of my favorite days of the year.

Not anymore. Coming two months after September 11, if I could, I would permanently erase it from the calendar.

I can barely remember my first Thanksgiving after the attack. It must not have been an easy day for Pappi either, although he tried not to let it show. His wife, Derrick’s mother, had recently left him for another man, and he was mourning my father, too, who was his best friend and business partner. And like anyone that worked in lower Manhattan, Pappi attended dozens of funerals in the weeks that followed. It was a dark time for so many. Rather than try to recreate the traditions of prior years, Pappi took Derrick and me to a local Chinese restaurant, and that became our new tradition. The three of us sitting at a small, round table in an otherwise empty restaurant, eating egg rolls and wonton soup, crunching on fortune cookies. For our main course, Pappi would order a dish called Happy Family. I still wasn’t sure whether he was being ironic or hopeful.

This year, I assumed I would spend the holiday alone.

No turkey or candied sweet potatoes. No Happy Family.

Just me and Kismet.

But now . . .

If Nash was serious about not leaving me, I’d be spending Thanksgiving with him. Just the two of us.

That couldn’t happen. Last night, I’d basically served myself to him on a silver platter—and been turned down. There was no need to share an intimate meal with the man, alone in his hotel. And besides, celebrating the holiday in the Caribbean wasn’t exactly a hardship. Surrounded by strangers, I’d be safe from both Derrick and Nash.

With a sigh I picked up my phone. “I changed my—”

Nash’s smooth voice interrupted me. “Jay’s waiting for you downstairs.”

My shoulders tensed. “How did you—”

“Know you’d change your mind?”

“No one likes a know-it-all, Nash Knight.”

“On the contrary, I’m quite well liked, despite my surplus of knowledge.”

“I think you’re mistaking ego for arrogance.”

“I think you’re mistaking arrogance for confidence.”

“More like conceit,” I scoffed.

“I don’t have time to explain your misguided reasoning. You have a passport office to get to.”

I swallowed my rising irritation. “Jay doesn’t have to chauffeur me everywhere.”

“He does if he wants to keep his job. More than that, he’s going to sit right next to you in the passport office.”

“Nash, that’s ridiculous.”

“No. It’s non-negotiable.”

I was fuming. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“I can if it means keeping you safe.” I heard voices in the background. “Listen, in case you didn’t know, I’m about to go away for a few days, which means I can’t afford to spend another minute arguing with you. And I don’t want to worry about you, either.”

I crossed my arms, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. Thinking.

“Please.” The word was like a soft breeze, caressing the side of my face that was pressed to the phone. A breeze with the power to knock me on my ass.

I capitulated. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Nash rewarded me with that throaty chuckle I loved so much. “I’ll do my best to be as nice as possible from now on.”

And then he was gone, leaving me staring at my phone and wondering if leaving the country with him was such a good idea. A nice Nash . . . Jesus. My willpower was about as steady as a quivering spoonful of cranberry sauce.