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  A moment later, after Laine had offered to freshen Nick's drink and he had declined, Thornton took a gold-framed photograph from its place of honor on the piano and handed it to the younger man. "Did Laine show you this? It's my older daughter, Regina. She looks exactly like her mother did at that same age. Lovely, isn't she?"

  Nodding, Nick examined the platinum-haired beauty who beamed a dazzling smile up from the photograph. "Yes, she's very lovely."

  "She's a model," Laine contributed as she returned from the bar to sit down again. "In New York."

  "Maybe you've seen her on magazine covers," Thornton added proudly. "She's very much in demand."

  Nick's darkening gaze drifted from Laine to her father, then back to her again. When she detected unmistakable understanding in the depths of his eyes, plus a hint of something akin to compassion, she was amazed at his swift perceptiveness. Though she felt some resentment toward her father for making her appear vulnerable to Nick, she managed a genuine smile.

  "We're very proud of Regina," she said honestly. "But she's so busy, she hardly ever comes home. I miss her."

  "I'm sure she must miss you too," Nick said softly, returning the photograph to Thornton, though his eyes never left Laine's face. "If the two of you are like my two younger sisters, you're probably very close."

  "Yes, we're even closer now that we're adults," Laine told him, smiling fondly as she willingly shared a memory. "We really used to fight like cats. I thought she was far too bossy, and she considered me an aggravating little brat. During some of our louder more energetic spats, Mother used to threaten to throw us both out of the house."

  "Well, Nick, you are staying for dinner this evening, aren't you?" Thornton interceded, rushing a change of subject as if he could hardly bear to hear Laine's reminiscences of happier days when his beloved wife was still alive. Yet there was not one shadow of emotion on his face as he regarded Nick inquiringly. "Laine did invite you, didn't she?"

  "As a matter of fact, Father, I hadn't yet," Laine answered, giving Nick a sincerely gracious smile that reflected an inbred hospitality. "We'd love for you to stay for dinner if you wouldn't mind taking potluck. Friday is always my day off from cooking. Father usually fends for himself."

  "I'm sure you can prepare an excellent meal, if you really try," Thornton said brusquely. "Even on such short notice."

  "I'm not exactly a gourmet chef, Father. Let's not get Nick's hopes too high," she replied smoothly, her only sign of rebellion a slight compressing of her lips. Then she suddenly smiled. "I have a better idea than potluck anyway. I bought some very nice steaks yesterday. Why don't you bring out the charcoal, Father?" She turned to Nick. "His grilled steaks are really delicious."

  Thornton had no choice except to acquiesce. He nodded his agreement, then countered with an idea of his own. "And after dinner, Nick, I'm sure you'd like a tour of the campus so you can see some of the projects your uncle's money has contributed to. Laine will show you around." . Now she was unable to protest, though she probably should have. Her father knew full well that she had all those student evaluations to finish this weekend, but she suspected he had maneuvered her into this corner deliberately anyhow. Why he should do that was a mystery she gave little thought to at that moment, however. Her mind immediately became occupied with more disturbing thoughts—when she stood, Nick's jade eyes lingered on her long shapely legs, then wandered lazily upward. Though she gave him a nonchalant smile, her heartbeat had accelerated. And when she excused herself to go up to her room to change clothes, she wondered how unwise it was even to consider going for a moonlit stroll with Nick Brannon.

  Ten minutes later, after slipping into a comfortable ice blue cotton shirtwaist and blessedly unconfining leather sandals, Laine felt like a new woman. She ran lightly down the stairs to the kitchen, where she sprinkled coarse salt over baking potatoes before putting them into the oven. While nibbling a carrot stick, she prepared a fresh green salad and her own blue cheese dressing and looked frequently out the window at her father and Nick on the patio. Both men had shed their jackets and ties, and Nick looked as comfortable in the outdoor setting as she imagined he would be in a courtroom. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to just above his elbows, exposing cleanly muscled forearms bronzed by the sun. Wondering how his busy career allowed much time for being out of doors, Laine gently tore tender leaves of lettuce into a large wooden bowl as she watched her father start toward the outside kitchen door.

  Despite the chefs apron tied round his middle, Thornton Winthrop exuded cool dignity. Back ramrod straight, he strode into the kitchen, then stopped and stared at his daughter expectantly.

  "The steaks are ready," she told him. "They're in the fridge."

  Silently, Thornton removed a platter from the refrigerator and quickly examined the steaks. Obviously they passed inspection, because he made no complaint, which was a relief. Particular as he was about the quality of the cuts of meat he grilled, he often preached sermons on wise buying habits if Laine presented him with steaks he considered less than perfect.

  Accustomed as she was to his silences, Laine expected him to leave the kitchen without a word to her. But as she sliced cherry tomatoes in half to add to the lettuce, she noticed he paused momentarily by the door. She turned and tilted her head to one side questioningly when she found him regarding her with something like speculation.

  "Brannon is obviously attracted to you, and that can work to our advantage," Thornton pronounced. Ignoring her surprise, he continued, "Show him the library addition tonight and the lab building and the student center. Money from Phillip Winston's grants went into all those projects. But more importantly, Laine, be very nice to him."

  "I'm always nice to people. Mother taught me to be."

  "I know what your mother taught you," he snapped, his stern patrician face exhibiting more emotion than usual. "And you know exactly what I mean when I ask you to be very nice to Brannon."

  Laine tensed. "No, I'm not sure I do know. Maybe you'd better explain."

  "For God's sake, don't pick now to be obstinate! You know what this grant means to Latham. And you've been out with enough young men to know how to be your most charming."

  "If you expect me to throw myself at Nick Brannon, you'd better think again," she declared. "I'll go along with you in little things like overdressing occasionally for nursery school, but this is different. Even for a million-dollar grant, I refuse to chase after a man, especially a man who might very well be married. Come to think of it, I do seem to remember reading somewhere that he has a very lovely wife."

  "Nonsense. He's not wearing a ring."

  "Which doesn't necessarily mean he isn't married, Father. Many men don't wear wedding rings."

  "Brannon's not married. I'm certain of that."

  "I'm not."

  "Well, I am, so just be very nice to him tonight," Thornton commanded before striding purposely out of the kitchen, the platter of steaks balanced on one hand.

  "Impossible man," Laine muttered to herself as she tossed the salad. Even a few minutes' later, when she carried a tray of cutlery and dishes out onto the patio, she couldn't help glaring resentfully at her father, but if he noticed, he showed no sign. Then resentment was forgotten as Nick strode across the tiled patio to kindly help her spread a cloth over the round table. Though her cork-heeled sandals added to her height, the top of Laine's head still barely reached a level with Nick's shoulders. And when he moved closer to her, so close that she imagined she could feel the warmth emanating from his body, she was suddenly overcome by a sensual awareness of him. She discreetly moved away, hoping to high heaven he was married. A man like Nick Brannon was far too dangerous to be running around footloose and fancy-free. A woman could get ideas about him, disturbing ideas that shocked Laine in their erotic intensity, and she did her best to cast such insane visions right out of her mind.

  She didn't totally succeed. Sitting next to Nick at table a half hour later, she became far more concerned about his knee
occasionally brushing against her own than she was about the delicious steak on the plate before her. She ate, but it might as well have been sawdust she put into her mouth for all the attention she paid to it. Although she added occasionally to the dinner conversation, she was more interested in listening to Nick. No topic daunted him. He seemed to possess considerable knowledge in a variety of subjects, an attribute that impressed her more than she wanted it to. If he knew nothing except what he had gleaned from law books, he would have been boring and far less appealing. His appeal was enhanced by wit and intrinsic intelligence, and Laine's attraction to him deepened.

  Perhaps her father sensed that. Without warning, he asked, "Are you married, Nick?"

  "I've been told I'm not the marrying kind," the younger man replied with an easy smile. "And I guess maybe I'm not, since I'm still a bachelor."

  The sideward glance Thornton gave his daughter said "I told you so," clearly but discreetly. It was unfortunate his next statement wasn't so discreet.

  "Since you plan to be here a few days, Nick, we'd be pleased to have you stay in our guest room."

  Much to Laine's relief, Nick shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want my visit to cause any inconvenience. I passed a motel about ten miles from here. Thought I'd check in there."

  "No use driving back tonight though," Thornton persisted. "Check in tomorrow and stay here tonight. Our guest room is far more comfortable than motel accommodations, I'm sure. Don't you agree, Laine?"

  "Of course," was the only response she could give, and she added somewhat weakly, "We'd be happy to have you stay."

  "Since you insist, I will then," he replied with a smile that seemed to say he had merely been awaiting her personal invitation. "For tonight, at least."

  "Excellent, excellent," Thornton intoned, hiding most of his satisfaction behind a placid expression. "And since you'll be sleeping here tonight, there'll be more time for you to tour the campus. Then when you tire of that, Laine can take you to the tavern. Many of the younger faculty members frequent it."

  "I'm agreeable if Laine is," Nick said amicably, cutting his eyes in her direction. "Are you, Laine?"

  "I think that would be very nice," she responded, unable to suppress a rising excitement. She really wanted to be with Nick, yet resented deeply her father's manipulation of the situation. Besides, his motive for throwing them together was so patently obvious it was embarrassing.

  And Thornton wasn't finished yet. He ascended the pinnacle of indiscretion with his next suggestion. "Laine, it's just occurred to me that Nick could escort you to the faculty party tomorrow night. That will be the perfect opportunity for him to meet most of the staff."

  Laine nearly choked on a sip of rose wine. Mortification flew in crimson flags in her cheeks and finally rebellion seethed forth. "Father, really, I…"

  "Perhaps Laine already has an escort to the party," Nick suggested casually.

  "It isn't that. I'd be honored to have you escort me to the party but…" The slight movement of one small hand was actually an attempted apology for her father's uncharacteristic behavior. "Well, the truth is I hadn't planned on going to the party. I have to evaluate all my student assistants and have their grades posted by Monday. I hadn't planned on going out at all this weekend."

  "Nonsense," Thornton snapped, casting her a warning glance. "Surely you'll have sufficient time to do the evaluations and go to the party too. And remember: all work and no play…"

  Defiance sparked blue fire in her eyes, but she tried to smile and keep her tone light as she responded, "Has it occurred to you, Father, that Nick might not want to escort me?" Pride made her attempt to laugh teasingly. "I may be far from ideal in your estimation, but you don't have to coerce men into taking me out—not yet, anyway."

  "I never allow myself to be pushed into doing something I don't want to do, Laine," Nick interceded, his voice low, his tone sincere, his darkening gaze magnetic as it captured and held her own. "And I do want to take you to the party."

  "But the evaluations…"

  "You can't work continuously," Nick firmly interrupt-ed her protest. "I want you to go to the party with me. Please."

  For an instant she hesitated, stymied by indecision. Finally, his unmistakable sincerity won her over, and she nodded. Yet her father's strange behavior was still a source of embarrassment for her and she didn't really feel at ease for the remainder of the meal.

  Later, after washing dishes, Laine returned to the living room. The moment she entered, Nick stood and took the initiative. "Ready to give me the grand tour?" When she nodded, he left her father and came across the room.

  Outside a moment later, in the muted glow of a yellow crescent moon, Nick's right hand curved into the small of Laine's back as they started walking toward the center of campus. His long fingers warmed her skin through the thin fabric of her dress and curious tingling sensations radiated along her spine. She stopped short and turned to face him, still very uneasy.

  "I have to apologize," she blurted out. "My father would never act like this if that grant weren't so important to the college."

  "I understand that; you don't have to explain or apologize," Nick assured her softly, his face unreadable in shadow. "I've been offered bribes before, but I have to admit, this is the first time anyone's ever offered his own daughter."

  Stung by the truth so plainly spoken, Laine turned on one heel and attempted to start back toward the house, but Nick swiftly clasped one hand around her right wrist. He pulled her back to him. His arms came around her. Exploring hands ran over her back, then molded her slight, softly curved form against the hard wholly masculine line of his. When she gasped, a slight smile played over his sensuously carved lips.

  Tense in the circle of his arms, she gazed up at him. "I wish you hadn't said that," she chided shakily. "It was too blunt."

  "But honest. Your father's hoping you'll be able to influence my decision about the grant."

  The tip of Laine's tongue came out to moisten suddenly dry lips as she shook her head. "I couldn't influence you."

  "Ah, don't be too sure of that."

  Her breath caught. She struggled but was pressed closer as a result, so her struggles ceased. "Now listen, Nick," she protested weakly. "If you expect me to…"

  "I don't expect anything from you… yet," he whispered close to her ear as her eyes widened.

  And Laine had no idea whether he was teasing or being completely serious.

  CHAPTER THREE

  For the next hour or so, Laine became an efficient, knowledgeable tour guide. Deciding Nick's provocative statement had been made jokingly, she dismissed it, relaxed, and confidently showed him around campus. Although her affection for Latham College must have been obvious to Nick, he didn't respond to it, nor did he give any indication as to whether or not he was impressed when Laine showed him the new library wing, lab building, and student center. Prompted by his noncommittal expression, she tried harder. After returning to the first floor of the two-story center, she led the way through the mingling groups of students celebrating end of exams to the bronze plaque prominently displayed on a wall near the entrance.

  With a hopeful smile she gestured toward the short row of names engraved on the burnished sheet of metal. "You see, your uncle's name is listed first, as usual, because we do appreciate the fact that he is Latham's most generous benefactor."

  Nick merely nodded, then glanced around at the loudly chattering groups of students. Soon his attention was riveted for a long still moment on a daring coed who roller-skated at breakneck speed across the tiled lobby to the cheers of friends watching from the mezzanine. When a campus security guard quickly halted the daredevil's progress and made her remove her skates, Nick looked back down at Laine with an expectant quirk of one dark eyebrow.

  She smiled weakly. "They're just excited because exams are over and most of them will be going home tomorrow. You remember how it is, don't you?"

  "Vaguely," was his amused answer. "Of course, at m
y advanced age…"

  "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she protested, laughing up at him. "I'm sure you're not so old you can't remember your college days."

  "Not quite that old, but I am thirty-six. That's twelve years older than you. Do you think that's a great age difference?"

  "No, I don't think it is," she said softly, puzzled by the slight nuance she had detected in his voice. His tone had lowered, subtly becoming more serious and intense. "Do you?"

  "I'm sure I would have, until this afternoon," he replied as softly. "But meeting you has changed my thinking. Now I know just how intriguing a twenty-four year old woman can be."

  Conversation was becoming too personal too swiftly again, and Laine was dismayed to find herself inexorably drawn to Nick. Seeking to lessen the appeal of his magnetic personality, she reminded herself that she would probably never see him again after this weekend, so her growing attraction to him should be wisely nipped in the bud right now. He was only a man she was guiding around campus. She wouldn't take his flirting seriously. Hoping to convey that impression, she gave him a bland smile, then preceded him out of the student center.

  As they followed one of the winding cobbled paths that crossed the grassy commons, Laine slipped her hands into her pockets and breathed deeply of the fresh night air.

  "Well, I've shown you just about everything Father particularly wanted you to see." Disturbed by Nick's lack of voiced response, she was compelled to ask, "What do you think so far? Has your uncle's money been well spent in your opinion?"

  "It's not my opinion that matters really. It's the facts that I'll report to him that count," Nick evaded deftly. "You should understand, though, that Uncle Phil thinks of Latham exactly the way it was when he attended college here. In his mind, it hasn't changed, so I can't predict what he'll have to say about the student center, for instance. When he reminisces, he always emphasizes that discipline and serious study were the rule here. Recreation meant a quiet talk with friends at the tavern or a game of football or basketball. Since he hasn't visited the campus since the center was built, he might be surprised to learn that it houses Ping-Pong tables, electronic games, and a coffee shop with jukebox blaring."