For 100 Days Read online

  I sense more than see, the attention Nick draws simply by entering the building. As if he brings a live electrical charge inside with him, a jolt of awareness travels the high-ceilinged, sumptuous lobby. And it’s no wonder, really.

  Dominic Baine is as gorgeous as he is rich and powerful. And within his carved, devastatingly handsome face, his breathtaking bright blue eyes are locked unwaveringly on me.

  I know he must be aware of the attention he’s stirring, but for all of his discretion and reputed secrecy regarding his personal life, Nick seems not to care in the least. As I rise from my seat on one of the lobby’s sofas, he is right there, collecting me into his arms. I am enfolded in a strong, protective embrace that makes me feel safer than I have at any other moment in my life.

  After a few seconds, he pulls back to look at me. His frown deepens, solemn with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” I give a small shake of my head, hoping he’ll understand that I’m not ready to talk. Just as he has, I too have my own walls. Steep walls no one can climb. And as much as my heart wavers now, especially when Nick is holding me in his arms, I’m not yet ready to let him in.

  What’s more, deep down, I know I won’t ever be able to let him in. Not without seeing his concern turn to pity and disgust—or something even worse.

  He studies me, and while I’m sure his keen gaze can see all of the cracks in me as no one else ever has, he seems to understand that pressing will only make me break.

  “I don’t want to talk, Nick. I don’t want to think about anything for a little while, okay?”

  “Okay.” He strokes the side of my face, his touch gentle as he continues silently assessing my wellbeing. “I know just the place for that.”

  Chapter 25

  As soon as we get into the car, Nick calls Lily and instructs her to clear his schedule for the rest of the day. I don’t know what he has in mind for us, nor does it matter. Seated beside him in the BMW, his fingers curved over the top of my thigh as he smoothly navigates the afternoon traffic, I already have everything I need.

  After we’ve been driving through the city for a little while, he slants me a look. “I hope you like seafood?”

  “I love it.”

  “Excellent. I want to take you to one of my favorite spots.”

  I can’t even begin to guess where that might be, especially now that he’s heading toward the tunnel that will take us to Queens. “Are you going to tell me the name of it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not even a hint?”

  Now he arches a dark brow in my direction. “What’s the matter, you don’t like surprises?”

  “Not particularly.”

  In fact, I hate surprises. I’ve had too many in my life, beginning at the age of seven, on the day I learned that my father had died of a massive heart attack. Followed a few years later by the surprise news that my mom had met a nice family man from another town and I was getting a new stepfather. Which was then followed by the further surprise of seeing her with a black eye for the first time. Then, not long afterward, a broken arm.

  There were other surprises, too, culminating in the most horrific of them all on that day nine years ago.

  I’ve gone quiet, lost in troubling memories, and, of course Nick doesn’t miss the change in my mood. The hand resting lightly on my thigh now lifts to my cheek. His touch is so tender it nearly breaks me.

  “You’ll like this surprise, I promise.”

  I don’t know if he understands how profoundly his reassurance affects me. He can’t, of course, and if I’m being honest with myself, I hope to hell he never does. I hope he never learns how ugly my past is—or how brutally it all came crashing down.

  I want to pretend, even for just a little while, that this is my reality. I want to imagine that I know what it’s like to be unburdened with secrets and lies. More than anything, I want to savor whatever Nick has in store for us and pretend that we are simply a normal couple enjoying a normal date together.

  Determined to do just that, I settle back as we continue the drive through Queens. When we approach Cross Bay Boulevard, I think I’ve got his plan figured out.

  “So, we’re going out to eat at Howard beach?”

  He grins. “Not that beach.”

  And, damn the man, his cryptic answer is all I get out of him. Soon, though, I see signs for the airport, and Nick merges into the exit lane for JFK. Without a word of explanation, he takes the turn and heads directly for the airport.

  “Nick.” I gape at him, confused and anxious and excited all at the same time. “Seriously. Where are we going?”

  “Trust me.” He glances at me, and while he’s clearly enjoying his game, I also see sincerity written in his soul-searching blue eyes. “Can you do that, Avery?”

  I stare back at him, feeling the weight of this moment all the way to my bones. He’s not just talking about today, this mystery excursion. I can see that in the solemnity of his handsome face. He’s asking for my trust in a much more meaningful way. One I’m not certain I fully understand yet.

  Can I trust him?

  I’ve never felt I needed a man to walk me through the rough patches in my life. I still don’t, but I have to admit there is something comforting in being with Nick. I like the way he looks at me, the way he treats me. There is something deeply fortifying in being able to look across the small cabin of the vehicle and know that I’m not alone. To believe that with this man, I am protected. I am safe.

  And yes, I do trust him.

  The realization is so foreign, so out of my realm of experience, it takes me aback.

  I nod, and his answering smile is my reward.

  He avoids the main artery to the airport terminal. Instead, we follow a service drive to a separate terminal reserved for private aircraft. He parks the car in the small lot and kills the engine.

  “Shall we?”

  “You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?”

  Instead of answering, he leans across the seat and drags me into a bone-melting kiss. When he releases me, I’m breathless, caught up in the oceans of his searching eyes. His deep voice caresses my senses like velvet. “Trust, Ms. Ross.”

  “Right,” I murmur, my veins buzzing from just that brief joining of our mouths. “Am I at least dressed all right for wherever it is you’re taking me?”

  He pulls back to look at me in my low-cut black top, black jeans and heels. “You’re more than dressed all right. You’re sexy as hell. But you might be a little warm where we’re going, so I’ll phone ahead and make sure you have everything you need when we arrive.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re going to phone ahead for clothes for me?”

  “Unless I decide to keep you naked instead.”

  I smile and shake my head. “Are you this controlling in all aspects of your life, Mr. Baine, or just when it comes to me?”

  “Are you truly ready to find out?”

  A tingle runs over all of my nerve endings at his dark invitation. Although I spoke with humor, there is none in Nick’s voice. His brilliant blue eyes hold me in a piercing, probing stare that I can’t break even if I wanted to. The hungry way he looks at me makes my stomach flutter and my sex ache to have him inside me.

  I can’t help feeling that he’s preparing me for something . . . that if I step out of this car with him now—if I allow him to lead me away from the life I knew before him—there will be no turning back.

  He’s telling me this now, giving me the chance to escape.

  But that’s not what I want.

  He knows this, just as surely as I do.

  I’m already in too deep. I have been from the start with him. And I don’t want out.

  “All right,” I tell him. “Yes. I’m ready, Nick.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “So, was I right?” he asks, walking up behind me as I gaze out over the beginnings of a spectacular Miami sunset.

  We’re high atop the city on the wraparound terr
ace of a luxury penthouse, surrounded by open sky, endless water, and a soothing, warm ocean breeze. With nothing but a hip-high railing of clear Plexiglas in front of us, I feel as if we’re part of the sky itself, suspended eighteen stories above the earth.

  Nick rests his chin lightly on my shoulder, his deep voice curling through my senses. “How do you like this surprise?”

  “It’s incredible.”

  From our vantage point on the top floor of the sleek white residential tower, the sky seems close enough to touch, its smattering wisps of clouds lit up with a hundred shades of pink, lavender, coral, and gold. In front of us, the Atlantic stretches endlessly from the beach and boardwalk far below, to the distant horizon. Over my shoulder in the opposite direction, the sunset is even more brilliant, silhouetting the teeming, vibrant colors of Miami’s downtown on the other side of Biscayne Bay.

  We arrived a short time ago on board the piloted private jet Nick paid to charter on the spot at JFK. For all of our three hours in the air, he kept me in suspense over where we were going. And while a spontaneous trip to Miami Beach is more adventure than I’ve ever known, it turns out that was only part of his surprise. This penthouse condo—yet another of his impressive properties—is the icing on an already fabulous cake.

  “I can’t get over this view.”

  He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, just below my earlobe. “Wait until you see the sunrise from up here.”

  Wrapping his arms around me, he draws me closer to him, against the firm muscles of his chest and thighs. The flirty, above-the-knee, spaghetti-strap sundress I’m wearing—also courtesy of Nick—sways around my legs as I pivot in his embrace. “Are we staying overnight?”

  “We can stay as long as you like.”

  Forever, I think, as he gently sweeps aside some of my hair that’s blown loose from my ponytail, then caresses my cheek. Desire licks across my senses at that tender touch. I sigh, feeling all of my tension and uncertainty from earlier today begin to melt away from me.

  Our bodies brush together only lightly as we stand here, but it’s enough for me to feel the solid bulge of his erection at my abdomen. The fact that he wants me now like I want him sends a shiver of heat and awareness spiraling through me, straight to my core.

  How can his slightest touch always arouse me so easily? How can it be that when we’re together the rest of the world simply peels away?

  He knows what he does to me, and from the slow smirk he gives me now, there’s no denying that he enjoys how readily my body responds to him.

  “Christ, you are a temptation,” he murmurs, lowering his head to nip at my lower lip.

  As he teases me with his kiss, his hand skims between my bare thighs under the fluttery fabric of my skirt where I am totally naked. Of the half-dozen dresses Nick arranged to have waiting for me, the thin-strapped bodice of the one I selected isn’t made for a bra, so I’m not wearing one. And, at Nick’s insistence when we changed clothes on our arrival, I’m not wearing panties either. I smile at the thought, because his erotic demand nearly undid him when he watched me slip into the silky little dress, and I know it’s going to prove a distraction to him, too, until he’s able to take it off me again.

  He groans when his fingers reach my sex. I’m already wet just from being held in his arms, and from the kiss that turns possessive now, as he cleaves between my folds and strokes me without shame or mercy. I whimper helplessly at the first graze of his thumb over my clit, my hands fisting in his thick black hair as he pushes his tongue into my mouth and two fingers plunge deep into my body.

  “Nick.” His name is a gasp as I let my head tip back while he drives me toward madness with his wicked caresses. “Oh, shit . . . I could come like this.”

  “And you will, baby.” He kisses my exposed throat, his tongue playing in the hollow at the base of my neck. “But not yet.”

  To my dismay, I feel his hand start to withdraw from me. I can’t contain my disappointed moan. My skirt falls back down around my thighs, and when I look at him, he is grinning like the devil himself. Unabashedly carnal, he puts the two fingers that were inside me into his mouth and sucks on them.

  “I’m ravenous,” he growls darkly, a sinful curve to those lips I want to feel on mine, on every naked inch of my body. “Before I devour you the way I fully intend to, I should make good on that promise to feed you.”

  Chapter 26

  Nick’s favorite place for seafood is a small, tucked-away beachfront restaurant about forty-five minutes south of Miami. We drive up in a metallic red Lamborghini Aventador rental that he arranged for at the airport upon our arrival earlier today, a sexy beast of a car that’s turned every head we’ve passed. Although I’ve never been someone who craves the spotlight, I can’t deny that I feel like a princess as Nick helps me out of the roadster and escorts me to the restaurant at his side.

  The squat little building doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it’s crowded and more people are waiting under the arched portico of the entrance. As soon as the hostess spots Nick, however, she nods in greeting and steps through the waiting patrons to retrieve us.

  “How nice to see you, sir,” she offers, discreetly avoiding saying his name among the other patrons. I am granted an equally welcoming smile. “And good evening, ma’am. Right this way, please. We have your table waiting.”

  We follow her out to a garden patio area illuminated by flaming tiki torches and palm trees aglow with winding ropes of tiny white lights. Twenty-odd tables covered in elegant white linens, gleaming silverware, and crystal glasses fill the small concrete space overlooking a round lagoon and sandy beach. Beyond that are the glittering waters of Biscayne Bay and the open Atlantic.

  The last moments of sunset paint the darkening sky in vivid colors as we make our way to the far end of the patio and the only open table—which also happens to be the one with the most romantic view of the water and skyline through the sheltering palms.

  As we settle in at our table, Nick sends the hostess away with a request for a bottle of champagne. I notice he doesn’t specify the label, nor does she ask.

  “Are we celebrating?” I ask, glancing across to him while I unfold my white linen napkin and place it on my lap.

  “Rumor has it someone quit their job today.” He arches a brow in question. “I’d say that calls for celebration or consolation. Champagne seems a good accompaniment for either one.”

  I swallow, caught off guard by the reminder of what happened today. “It’s cause for celebration,” I say, unsure if I’m resolved or merely hopeful. “My boss is a jerk. If I’d had the nerve, I would’ve quit long before now.”

  Nick listens silently, his gaze never leaving me as I speak. “Sometimes it’s hard to see the things that are holding us back. Sometimes it takes a push to make us truly open our eyes.”

  I nod, acknowledging to myself just how right he is about that. How long would I have endured Joel’s overbearing treatment if I hadn’t been forced to confront him? Would I have accepted his domineering attitude if it hadn’t been for the sense of self-worth and power that being with Nick these past several weeks has instilled in me?

  Our champagne arrives, a 1998 Dom Perignon that I’m certain I won’t find on the general wine list. The wine steward carrying the four-hundred-dollar bottle waits for Nick’s approval, then pours it for us. After the bottle is placed on ice and the steward is gone, Nick raises his glass.

  “To opened eyes,” he says.

  I smile and touch my glass to his. “To good surprises and spectacular sunsets too.”

  “Indeed.”

  A broad grin breaks over his face, and for an instant I’m spellbound. I am well aware that Dominic Baine is handsome. Arrestingly so. But the impact of his smile on me in the middle of this crowded restaurant patio, with the unshakable awareness that everyone here is looking at us—wishing they could be us—is like something out of a dream.

  He is like something out of a dream, and I barely resist the urge to pinch
myself to make sure I’m actually awake and living this moment, not merely wishing I am.

  My first sip of the crisp champagne tingles all the way down my throat. Nick doesn’t take his gaze off me, not even to watch the final explosion of color that fills the sky in the moments before the sun is doused and the brilliant colors over the water give way to a starlit night.

  We place our dinner orders—for Nick, the Chilean sea bass, and, for me, a Caribbean style red snapper—then settle back to share a ceviche appetizer of baby octopus, shrimp, white fish, and julienned vegetables sprinkled with cilantro and drizzled with a spicy cream sauce.

  Nick pops a shrimp into his mouth, then watches as I push one of the small, many tentacled morsels to the other side of the plate with my fork. He shakes his head at me. “That piece is yours. Take it.”

  I wrinkle my nose, skepticism surely written all over my face. “Hmm, no, thanks.”

  “It’s the best part of this dish.” He stabs it on the end of his fork and holds it out to me over the plate. When I only stare at the decapitated little creature, Nick cocks his head. “Don’t tell me this is your first time?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  He doesn’t move his hand. And now, more than one person is staring our way while I sit frozen, and not a little repulsed, by Nick’s gentlemanly but unwanted offering.

  “Try it, Avery. Don’t let fear keep you from pushing your personal boundaries. If you do, you’ll miss out on some of the most pleasurable things in life.”

  I can’t look away from his intense gaze and something dark—something wicked—unfurls deep inside me at his low-voiced enticement. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not only talking about dinner?”

  His answering smile is decadent, carnal. “Trust, Ms. Ross. Remember? You have my word, I won’t introduce you to anything you won’t enjoy. Immensely.”

  After everything he’s shown me so far, I don’t doubt that for a second.

  Given little choice, I lean forward and close my mouth around his fork. The octopus feels strange on my tongue, tender yet firm. As I chew, I discover the flavor is actually quite good. Citrus and spice and creamy sweet sauce mingle wonderfully with the delicate taste of the octopus.