Won't You Be My Husband?

To Nick’s relief, Lauren slipped the ring on her finger instead of asking any more questions about that painful period in his past. “It’s a little loose, but I promise I won’t lose it.”

“Lose it. Lose it!” Ready to escape Lauren’s pristine bedroom, Nick walked out the door and down the hall to the stairs. Lauren turned off the light and joined him. Together they descended into the foyer, where she retrieved her coat from a closet. Moments after, they left the house.

The clock on the dash said 8:10 when Nick braked to a halt in Phillip Avery’s circle drive and assisted Lauren from the car. They hurried up the steps to the house, Lauren exclaiming over everything from the massive oak trees to the antique mailbox. It warmed Nick’s heart to hear her comments. Although a noted obstetrician in one of the city’s most influential clinics—at least according to the secretary who’d ordered the roses for him—Lauren was still just Sissy West from a small Texas town on the Gulf of Mexico.

Incredible, that, and disconcertingly appealing.

“Do I need to ring the bell?” Lauren asked, no doubt referring to his earlier reluctance to ring hers.

“Feel free.”

Lauren reached up, then slowly lowered her hand. “Do you really think they’ll believe we’re in love, Nick? I mean, we didn’t practice or anything—”

“Trust me, Lauren,” Nick couldn’t resist teasing. “If I’d had the slightest idea you wanted to practice loving me, I’d have been over every night this week.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_bd716179-6175-5520-891e-8465c084be0a)

“Why, Nick Gatewood, shame on you!” Laughing over her case of nerves, Lauren punched the doorbell. She heard its ring, muted by the heavy front door. Then the ornate wooden barrier was flung open wide.

“Hello, Nicky,” crooned an. emerald-eyed brunette Lauren guessed to be in her early twenties. She included Lauren in her smile almost as an afterthought. “Please come in.”

Grateful when Nick took her hand and led the way, Lauren stepped into the massive foyer of a house that could have been Tara, just as its mistress could have been Scarlett.

Unfortunately the conservatively attired man Lauren saw hurrying down the hall toward them couldn’t have been Rhett. No, he more resembled Scarlett’s father, a fact that explained Sabrina’s attraction to Nick—who could claim more than a few Rhett-ly qualities.

Nick cleared his throat, transporting Lauren back to Texas from civil-war Georgia. “I’d like to introduce my fiancée, Lauren West, an obstetrician who works at a clinic here in town. Lauren, this is Phillip Avery, one of the cofounders of Avery, Sanders and Wright, and his wife, Sabrina.”

“Fiancée? Well, I’ll be damned,” responded Phillip, with a delighted grin. He reached for Lauren’s hand and pumped it vigorously up and down. “When did all this happen?”

“Just what I was about to ask,” interjected Sabrina, her smile long since vanished, her skin tone as green as her eyes.

“It happened Sunday before last, actually,” Nick replied, laying his left arm casually over Lauren’s shoulders and pulling her closer to his side. Lauren slipped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

“We’ve known each other since we were teenagers,” she said. “So naturally we were both surprised when our friendship blossomed into love.”

Sabrina made a choking sound, which turned into a cough.

“Are you all right, darling?” Phillip asked, reaching out to pat her on the back.

“Fine,” she snapped, shaking off his solicitous touch. Her venomous gaze nailed Lauren to the wall, or would have if Nick hadn’t stepped in the line of fire. Lauren didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but appreciated the gesture.

“We aren’t ready to announce the engagement to everyone yet,” Nick then said. “But we did want you two to know.”

“We’re honored to be some of the chosen few,” Phillip told him, clearly oblivious to his wife’s reaction. “And I think this wonderful news deserves a toast. Follow me.” That said, the portly architect led the way into the den. An elaborate wet bar covered one wall, a massive fireplace, another. The third and fourth were made up of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books that Lauren bet the lady of the house had never dusted, much less read.

Phillip handed everyone a wineglass, into which he poured a measure of sparkling pink champagne, talking all the while. “I have to admit that lately I’ve been worried about Nick, who is the most gifted architect I’ve ever known, by the way.”

Nick flushed crimson in response to the praise and avoided Lauren’s gaze.

“He seemed restless,” Phillip continued. “A bit down. In fact, I actually wondered if he was going to come back after his vacation in a couple of weeks. I guess I can quit worrying about that now.”

“Yes, you can,” Lauren murmured with a questioning glance at Nick. His expression told her nothing.

Moments later, drinks in hand, the four of them toasted an engagement as fake as Sabrina Avery’s beauty mark. They next exchanged enough small talk to satisfy Phillip’s curiosity about Lauren. Their young hostess then excused herself to the kitchen to check on the meal, sweetly inviting Lauren to come along.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call 911,” Lauren whispered to Nick, under the guise of kissing his cheek. His eyes danced in response, and she saw a smile tugging the corners of his lips.

So he was enjoying this, huh? Well, no wonder. She was the one about to face the firing squad.

Lauren found the kitchen as impressive as the rest of the house and was surprised to discover that Sabrina seemed to know her way around the room.

“Something smells wonderful,” Lauren murmured, trying, for the sake of Nick’s career, to be friendly with this woman-child.

“It’s an old family recipe. My parents own a restaurant in New York. They feature European cuisine. I was practically raised in the kitchen.” She lifted the lid of a large, stainless steel pot and stirred the contents with a wooden spoon, releasing more aromatic steam. “Do you cook?”

“Not much,” Lauren admitted without thought.

“Poor Nicky,” murmured Sabrina. “He loves my cooking, you know.” She replaced the lid on the cook pot and turned to face Lauren. “You’ve known him how long, did you say?”

“At least twenty-five years.” Which is a couple of years longer than you’ve been alive, sweetheart.

“When is the wedding?”

“We’re not sure yet, since we both have such busy schedules.”

“May I give you a word of advice?”

A word of advice? From a preschooler? Though Lauren knew Sabrina’s action resulted from her immaturity and jealousy, she barely managed to contain her sarcasm when she replied, “I’m all ears.”

“My husband may not be particularly intuitive, but he is right about one thing. Nicky only pretends he is satisfied with his life.” Sabrina tossed her long dark hair, then lifted her chin, her gaze arrogant and disdainful. “He’s a rebel—a reckless, restless rebel—who will one day run away from everything, including you.”

Lauren abruptly lost her battle with her own good manners. “Your point?”

“Enjoy him while you have him.”

“Oh, but I do,” Lauren replied, by now sick of the woman’s melodrama and oddly disturbed by it. “In fact, that’s why we were late tonight…because we were enjoying each other so much.” Lauren spun on her heel and exited the kitchen, but not before she saw Sabrina’s jaw drop.

When Lauren burst into the den a second later, her eyes met Nick’s across the room. He leapt to his feet, a sure sign her anger must be showing. Phillip, clearly confused by Nick’s abrupt action, stood, too.

“Your headache must be worse,” Nick said to Lauren, taking her arm.

“Much,” Lauren told him through gritted teeth. “If I could just get some fresh air.”

“Why don’t you take her out in the garden?” Phillip suggested, clearly concerned. “You know the way, I believe. I’ll call you when everything is ready.”

“Thanks,” Nick murmured, grasping Lauren by the wrist and nearly dragging her down the hall and out double glass doors into the garden. The October breeze was a welcome relief, instantly cooling Lauren’s flaming temper. Cherishing the night sounds and garden smells, she let Nick lead her through the softly illuminated area to a covered bench swing.

“Speak to me,” he said the moment they were settled.