Page 70 of Storm Warning
“Kate, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have asked you to help us.” A silent plea shone in his eyes as they met hers, his face etched with guilt. “Please don’t leave tomorrow.”
She sighed under her breath, stirring the air between them. “I don’t want to, Nick, but my publisher was paying for most of this. If they’ve dropped me, they certainly won’t now, and now I have no income...”
“Don’t be silly, Kate. Do you think I care about that? Just stay, as my guest. Give us time to figure this out, to figure us out.” His voice, raw with emotion, tugged at her heart like a fishhook, pulling at something deep inside.
She leaned back against the arm of the sofa, the upholstery soft beneath her shoulder blades, and faced Nick. She owed him a straight, honest conversation. Her stomach rumbled, and her hand flew to cover it, heat rushing to her cheeks.
He laughed, and some of the tension left his face, the lines smoothing. “You didn’t get dinner. Come over to the kitchenand let me find something for you. You need to eat, especially after being in shock.”
He stood and took Kate’s elbow with gentle firmness, leading her to a wooden stool at the granite island, his hand warm around hers, his fingers interlaced with her own. “You sit and direct. First, you need sugar. Any preference on the source?”
Kate managed a wan smile, the muscles in her face aching with fatigue. “Tea with honey. There’s a fabulous white tea in the cabinet.”
“Got it. One tea coming up.”
Nick bustled around her kitchen, movements quick and efficient, pulling out a mug with a clink, starting the machine with a familiar hiss and burble, digging out the honey jar. Warmth bloomed. Other than Callie, no one had taken care of her in a very long time.
Actually, had anyone ever cared for her like this? With such focused attention, such genuine concern?
Nick set the steaming mug in front of her, the scent of delicate white tea and sweet honey rising with the steam. “Drink up.” He opened the refrigerator door, cool air spilling out. “Hmm. How about an omelet? I see plenty of stuff for that. What do you want in it?” He pulled out the egg carton as he spoke.
He looked so domesticated right then, so comfortable in her kitchen, with the carton of eggs in his hand and a dish towel over his shoulder. “Mushrooms, ham, and cheese, please.” His arms flexed as he cracked eggs—the shells breaking cleanly—sliced the mushrooms with quick, confident strokes, and diced the ham into neat cubes.
He slid a perfectly cooked omelet in front of her, golden and fluffy, steam rising from it. Kate blinked down at the plate. “It’s done already?”
A worried frown creased Nick’s face, his gaze troubled, darkeyes searching hers. “Eat up. I think you zoned out on me again. Let’s make sure your blood sugar is level, and then we’ll talk.”
A muted knock sounded at the door, sharp in the quiet. Nick went to answer it and returned with Zach carrying a professional-looking compact med kit.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Zach said, his voice low and steady, controlled. “Just need a quick sample while everything’s still fresh.”
Kate paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Sample?”
Zach set the kit on the counter with a soft thud and opened it with practiced ease, the latches clicking. “Blood draw and a swab of your arm. I want to see if there’s any residue left from that patch. If someone drugged you, we need proof—and fast.”
Nick hovered close, jaw tight, his presence protective.
She extended her arm without protest, watching as Zach dabbed the area with a sterile swab, the alcohol cool and sharp-smelling on her skin, then prepped a syringe with efficient movements.
“This won’t take long,” he assured her, his voice gentle. “You’re doing great.”
The prick barely registered, a small pinch. Kate stared at the honey swirling in her tea, golden spirals dissolving into amber liquid, as he sealed the sample in a vial with a click.
When finished, Zach addressed Nick, his expression somber. “I’ll run it now. Should know something by morning.”
As he left, his footsteps fading, Nick sat beside her again, the stool scraping against the floor. “Okay. Now that the science part is handled… let’s try to refill your tank.”
Kate nodded, grateful for a few more minutes of peace and comfort, for the normalcy of food and Nick’s steady presence. She knew the calm wouldn’t last. She and Nick needed to talk.
His intense gaze on her made eating a little strange, self-conscious, but hunger gnawed at her with sharp teeth, and shedevoured her food, the eggs fluffy and perfectly seasoned, the cheese melted just right.
She sighed and sat back, patting her full stomach with satisfaction. “That was delicious. I would ask how you learned, but I bet Marguerite taught you.”
Nick chuckled as he gathered her dishes with careful hands before helping her to her feet, his arm steady around her waist. “Yes, indeed. She taught me a lot. Now come sit and let’s talk.”
He guided her to the plush sofa in front of the stone fireplace, the cushions soft and deep. The gas logs ignited with a whoosh, flames springing to life, painting golden light across his face as he settled beside her. He pulled her to his side, like he did back on their first date, his arm around her shoulders, his body solid. He was quite tactile, always touching her.
“Now, please tell me you’ll consider staying on. I know you might have to leave to clear up this mess, if you have to meet with your agent or the publisher, but otherwise, please stay. Please give us another chance.” His voice held a note of vulnerability she hadn’t heard before, almost pleading.