only a lifetime's intense training in diplomatic circles where you
never, ever showed your true feelings that got her feet moving again. She barely
felt them as she descended the stairs, watched by the big dark man sitting across
from her father.
It didn't help that he cleaned up fantastically well. During the course of the
day he'd managed to make it to a barber. An expensive one. His hair--long,
unkempt and greasy--was now shiny clean and beautifully cut, showing off the
elegant shape of his head.
She'd never seen him in anything other than torn, grungy jeans and filthy
tee shirts. Now he seemed like another man entirely, dressed in a well-cut
midnight blue suit, white cotton shirt and burgundy silk tie. Now he looked like
the businessman he was, and a highly successful one at that.
And that businessman watched her intently, step by step.
Her father, normally so astute and alive to the ways of the world, wasn't
paying attention. He'd been caught up in the conversation and was excited at the
company. Thoughtlessly, he reached for his whiskey and sideswiped the glass.
Oh no!
Nicole ran the few steps to her father, catching the glass just as it was about
to shatter on the table.
Her father looked appalled, the high color of joy gone from his face.
Nicholas Pearce, so graceful all his life, with an athlete's build and coordination,
which had been a pure gift from the gods because he never exercised, had become
clumsy. The tumors were robbing him of his fine motor control. The loss had
come so quickly, he often forgot he couldn't control his muscles. He pulled his
shaking hand back, stricken. He hated making a mess when it was just the two of
them. In front of company it was even more humiliating.
Nicole's heart gave a hard squeeze in her chest. She knew very well how
crushed he felt inside, to have almost spilled a drink in front of a perfect stranger,
a stranger whose company he was enjoying. Company was a real treat these days.
How lonely her father must be. He spent his days alone in a wheelchair,
with the housekeeper for company during the day and a tired daughter in the
evenings.
Losing weight, growing weaker, day by day.
Dying was so hard.
She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, picking up the glass, curving his
hand around it. "Sorry to be so late," she said to Sam Reston.
He'd instinctively started to rise to help her father, but a fleeting touch of
his shoulder as she passed by and he subsided. Smart man.
33
"That's fine," he said easily. "It gave me an opportunity to talk to your dad,
here. We were both in Jakarta at the same time."
She casually held the whiskey glass to her father's lips, watching him out of
the corner of her eye. A slight tilt and he took a sip. She placed the glass back on
the table next to him, movements natural and unobtrusive. Her father had his sip
without making a mess, and without being humiliated.
"Doing slightly different things," her father said.
"Yes, sir, that we were." An unexpected smile broke out on Sam Reston's
hard face, the first she'd ever seen from him. She nearly did a double-take. It didn't
soften that hard face but it did highlight the strong features, making him look
almost...handsome. "Our doings were less respectable than yours, sir, but we were
still serving the same guy. Uncle Sam."
Oh God, he shouldn't smile, Nicole thought. No, no, no. She had schooled
herself to get through this evening purely as a thank you for opening her door
when she was so desperate, and because she'd given her word.
She didn't want to be attracted.
She didn't want this to be a date, not in any way. This wasn't a date, not at
all. She'd dithered over the dress simply because...because she always tried to look
as good as possible, it was in her nature. And the sucker punch to her stomach
when he'd turned to look at her? Surprise at seeing him in businessman mode.
She was perfectly prepared to spend a very boring couple of hours with
never, ever showed your true feelings that got her feet moving again. She barely
felt them as she descended the stairs, watched by the big dark man sitting across
from her father.
It didn't help that he cleaned up fantastically well. During the course of the
day he'd managed to make it to a barber. An expensive one. His hair--long,
unkempt and greasy--was now shiny clean and beautifully cut, showing off the
elegant shape of his head.
She'd never seen him in anything other than torn, grungy jeans and filthy
tee shirts. Now he seemed like another man entirely, dressed in a well-cut
midnight blue suit, white cotton shirt and burgundy silk tie. Now he looked like
the businessman he was, and a highly successful one at that.
And that businessman watched her intently, step by step.
Her father, normally so astute and alive to the ways of the world, wasn't
paying attention. He'd been caught up in the conversation and was excited at the
company. Thoughtlessly, he reached for his whiskey and sideswiped the glass.
Oh no!
Nicole ran the few steps to her father, catching the glass just as it was about
to shatter on the table.
Her father looked appalled, the high color of joy gone from his face.
Nicholas Pearce, so graceful all his life, with an athlete's build and coordination,
which had been a pure gift from the gods because he never exercised, had become
clumsy. The tumors were robbing him of his fine motor control. The loss had
come so quickly, he often forgot he couldn't control his muscles. He pulled his
shaking hand back, stricken. He hated making a mess when it was just the two of
them. In front of company it was even more humiliating.
Nicole's heart gave a hard squeeze in her chest. She knew very well how
crushed he felt inside, to have almost spilled a drink in front of a perfect stranger,
a stranger whose company he was enjoying. Company was a real treat these days.
How lonely her father must be. He spent his days alone in a wheelchair,
with the housekeeper for company during the day and a tired daughter in the
evenings.
Losing weight, growing weaker, day by day.
Dying was so hard.
She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, picking up the glass, curving his
hand around it. "Sorry to be so late," she said to Sam Reston.
He'd instinctively started to rise to help her father, but a fleeting touch of
his shoulder as she passed by and he subsided. Smart man.
33
"That's fine," he said easily. "It gave me an opportunity to talk to your dad,
here. We were both in Jakarta at the same time."
She casually held the whiskey glass to her father's lips, watching him out of
the corner of her eye. A slight tilt and he took a sip. She placed the glass back on
the table next to him, movements natural and unobtrusive. Her father had his sip
without making a mess, and without being humiliated.
"Doing slightly different things," her father said.
"Yes, sir, that we were." An unexpected smile broke out on Sam Reston's
hard face, the first she'd ever seen from him. She nearly did a double-take. It didn't
soften that hard face but it did highlight the strong features, making him look
almost...handsome. "Our doings were less respectable than yours, sir, but we were
still serving the same guy. Uncle Sam."
Oh God, he shouldn't smile, Nicole thought. No, no, no. She had schooled
herself to get through this evening purely as a thank you for opening her door
when she was so desperate, and because she'd given her word.
She didn't want to be attracted.
She didn't want this to be a date, not in any way. This wasn't a date, not at
all. She'd dithered over the dress simply because...because she always tried to look
as good as possible, it was in her nature. And the sucker punch to her stomach
when he'd turned to look at her? Surprise at seeing him in businessman mode.
She was perfectly prepared to spend a very boring couple of hours with
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