Jennifer Drew – All Wrapped Up (страница 3)

He’d left a void in her life and in her heart. Maybe that was why no man since had measured up to her expectations.

She punched in Nick’s number. What if he thought the invitation had been her idea? Would he think she was chasing him? Did he think she’d hop into bed with him for old time’s sake, as if he was so irresistible she still got hot and bothered just thinking about him? The possibilities made her cringe. How could Amy have put her in this position?

His phone rang three times. She took a deep breath and hoped her nerve wouldn’t fail her. He most likely hadn’t given her a thought in years before Amy called him. Liv didn’t know where he’d been or what he’d been doing for five years, but she’d bet he hadn’t been lonely for female companionship. He attracted women like no man she’d ever dated, maybe because he genuinely liked to spend time with them. He had a gift for listening and making people feel better about themselves.

“This is Nick Matheson. I’m not available now but leave your name and number. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

His answering machine. What a relief, even though hearing his recorded message made her quiver. He had a deep, mellow voice that matched his drop-dead good looks. She could see him in her mind, tall at six-two with blond hair and bedroom-blue eyes lively with intelligence and passion.

The machine beeped, and she had to leave a message. Now that she’d heard his voice, she’d never work up enough nerve to call back.

“This is Olivia Kearns. Don’t bother coming to my parents’ party.”

She’d meant to explain that Amy had sent the invitation and the party had been canceled.

“Don’t bother coming,” she repeated, not at all pleased with herself. She’d gotten rattled and left a terribly abrupt message.

Should she call back and leave another, more tactful message? What if he answered himself on the second try? What if he…? He loved afternoon sex—he’d been pretty fond of it anytime, but stealing a little time out of a busy day had once been great for both of them. It would be terrible to interrupt something like that. He might be living with someone, and she might cause trouble for him by calling twice.

Face it, she was afraid of how she’d react if she had to talk to him. She didn’t want to awaken feelings she’d long ago buried. No, a second call was a very bad idea.

She slashed his name off her list with a black felt pen.

NICK HAD GOTTEN HOME from his wasted weekend too late Sunday night to bother checking his messages. He couldn’t believe he’d hung around the little lakeside town of Saint Joseph, Michigan, for two days without getting an interview with the daughter of a depression-era baseball player.

It didn’t deter him that a couple of other Post reporters had tried and failed in the past few weeks. In fact, he loved the challenge of succeeding where his more seasoned colleagues had struck out. He was the new kid in the sports department, and he wanted to cement his reputation by interviewing the reclusive Matilda Merris, daughter of the baseball player who’d rocked Chicago with a bribery scandal in the 1930s. There were lots of questions only she could answer. Had the infamous Marty Merris been intimidated by gangsters? Were some leading politicians of the day involved? What had been her father’s motivation in accepting money to throw a crucial game?

He didn’t usually write history, but Merris was a special case. Marty was one of the greatest athletes that sport had ever seen, single-handedly exciting interest in a new league that failed not long after his disgrace. Sports-crazy Chicago was opening a new sports museum soon, and the directors were determined to keep Merris out of it. Mack Gallagher, Nick’s editor at the Post, had a collection of Merris memorabilia he wanted to donate to the new museum, but so far the powers that be had refused it. They wanted to write Chicago’s third great team out of the history books.

Nick had already figured out that the Post had more reporters than they needed to keep up with local sports. If the big bosses ever came to the same conclusion, he wanted to be too invaluable to be let go. Getting the Merris story could be his ticket to fame—and job security, no small prize in a field as competitive as his.

If he could uncover the true story of Chicago’s biggest sports scandal, there was a more immediate payoff. Mack had promised him better assignments if he could justify what Merris had done.

Nick had a file two inches thick, much of it gathered by the two reporters who’d given up on the piece. Without the insights only Matilda Merris could provide, the story was only speculation. The fact that two of his co-workers had failed only challenged him.

He started listening to his messages, first one from his mother in Florida. She wanted him to spend Christmas with her. He wanted to see her but no way could he leave Chicago now. Nor was he keen to hang out with her second husband, Terry, who called him “son” and treated him like a ten-year-old. Maybe he’d drive to Springfield for the holiday. He hadn’t seen Dad and his second wife in quite a while. Or maybe not. Things were getting interesting in the Windy City.

“Don’t bother coming to the party.”

He’d been absentmindedly checking other messages, but this one caught his full attention. He replayed it. Yeah, he’d heard right. It was Liv Kearns telling him not to “bother” coming to a party.

After five years she couldn’t even say, “Hi, Nick,” before she canceled the invitation to her parents’ anniversary party?

He played the message a third time. Couldn’t she at least say please don’t come? If she didn’t want him there, why had he gotten an invitation? He hadn’t decided whether to go, but, truth to tell, he hadn’t been back in the area long enough to have much of a social life. He’d been tempted to go until he remembered the last time they’d been together. He’d tried to explain why he wasn’t ready for commitment. She knew how much he was keyed up to begin his career, and she knew, too, that his father’s failure in marriage made Nick question his own chance of success.

If there was anything in his life he regretted, it was his breakup with Liv. He’d been more in love with her than any woman before or after. He’d been a jerk—with good reason. Even before his parents’ divorce, he hadn’t been a fan of commitment. Still wasn’t, considering that he’d left his job in Kansas City when sexy Darla, a career-driven lawyer, had started dropping wedding hints.

He loved sports and loved writing about them. It was a lifestyle that didn’t leave room for domestic entanglements or exclusive dating. Liv had tempted him once. All the more reason why he should’ve turned down the party invitation when he first got it. Maybe part of him wanted to see her again, but he was relieved that she’d made the decision for him.

Liv might have made him change his mind if he’d allowed their relationship to continue. He still got turned on by hearing her voice, but he’d been too ambitious—and face it, too immature—to consider a serious commitment five years ago. He’d never deceived her about that, but he shouldn’t have started something he couldn’t finish. In the beginning he hadn’t expected to care for her as much as he had. The longer he’d been with her, the more she expected their relationship to be permanent. He’d done her a favor by ending it, but he knew she hadn’t seen it that way.

He played her message a fourth time. He wasn’t imagining the breathy, seductive tone of her voice, even though her words were cold. That was typical of Liv. On the surface she was an ice princess, but he’d experienced the passion that simmered under the surface. She’d been hot, all he could want in bed and more.

She was totally genuine and natural. That was part of what had made their short relationship sizzle. But she didn’t have a clue how sexy she was. He’d had to work to unlock her passion, but it had been worth it. She’d rocked his world. He knew pretty much what he wanted in a woman, and he couldn’t help wondering what Liv was like now.

Back when they were together, Liv had been sure he’d change his mind about a permanent relationship. Her cure for his commitment phobia had been an excessive dose of devotion on her part. He wasn’t proud of it, but she’d scared him off.

He lived for the present. It wasn’t like him to second-guess decisions or brood over past mistakes. If Liv was uncomfortable having him come to her parents’ party, it was fine with him. His attitude toward relationships had remained the same since they’d parted company. He worked long hours and covered a lot of night and weekend events. He didn’t have time for anything but casual relationships, not if he wanted to excel in his field. And he did want that.

He had to get to work. After wasting a whole weekend trying to nail down an interview with Matilda Merris, even standing outside her house in the cold and looking pathetic in the hope she’d give in, he did have one more lead to follow. The old woman was a minor talent in the art world. She was on the client list of a Chicago public relations firm, William Lawrence Associates. Maybe, if he got really lucky, someone there would use their clout to get him inside Matilda’s Michigan home.