Chapter 53

Candace stared, blinked, stared again. There was no way her mother could manage taking care of herself, let alone taking care of Gran and Grandad. The idea was ridiculous. No one could change that much.

“I need you not to judge me for who I was, but who I’m trying to become. Your grandparents agree…”

If Mom went down to take care of Gran and Grandad, Candace would be able to stay here in Quinley. Working with artists at a job she already knew she enjoyed. She’d be here for Michelle, too, who needed her even if she’d rather eat rats than admit it. And…there would be nothing standing in the way of a commitment to Nolan.

Commitment. To one man. Maybe for the rest of her life. Did she really want that?

She put a hand to her chest as a rush of emotion nearly lifted her off her feet.

_________

Nolan pulled his car opposite the house. His interview had gone surprisingly well. Surprising since half his mind had been on Candace the entire time. He was worried about her, both for her own sake and for his. Her mother planning to stay in the area could easily tip the balance toward Candace leaving for Rosehill. What if palmetto bugs were more appealing than reconciling with Tricia?

He wanted to meet this woman. Not hoping to become her son-in-law— he’d only been about ninety percent kidding about wanting to work her over for what she’d done to her daughters—but to get a better sense of her and whether the relationship with her daughters was salvageable. Being human was the sad fate of most humans, but the ones who really wanted to could change. Candace was changing, he felt that about her—she was loosening, relaxing. Maybe even Michelle could change someday.

Or maybe not. But it was possible Mom McKenna could redeem herself. He hoped so. By making peace with her daughters, she’d fill a gaping hole in Candace’s life. He knew how much better he felt finding a job solution that would please both himself and his father.

Jeremy Carrington had for once called Nolan instead of his brothers to talk about the prospects for the foundation, and then actually backed down on a few points when Nolan held his ground.

With reformed mother and dutiful daughter reconciled, Candace might even be able to eject her baggage about letting him all the way into her life.

There was definitely hope.

He reached into the backseat and pulled out the basket of flowers he’d bought impulsively from a florist on his way out of town. The riotous bouquet of blues and greens reminded him of Candace in the dress he’d bought her—and yeah, of the way she looked when she pulled off that dress and flung it across his basement.

Plus he was getting desperate. Maybe she needed several pounds of chocolate? A diamond bracelet? She wasn’t the type to be swayed by gifts, which was one of the things he loved about her. But getting her to stay would sure as hell be easier if she were bribable.

Grinning in the now-familiar driveway, he got out of the car next to Candace’s car and tried to peer through the garage windows to see who else was home. Who knew what her mother drove, or whether she’d taken a cab. Michelle was probably still at work. He really wanted the chance to talk to Candace alone.

Life had been busy since that blissful day at the lake. They’d been all over together photographing and enjoying the city, and when they weren’t doing that, he’d been involved in his woodworking class and Habitat one afternoon and a lot of meetings and phone calls, and when he wasn’t doing that, he’d been researching how much sex two people could cram into each twenty-four-hour period.

A lot. All of it good. All of it pulling him deeper and deeper into certainty that Candace was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. If he could just get her to stay.

He used his key in the back door, pushed it open, listening before he called out, in case Candace and her mother were talking privately and didn’t need to be interrupted. Nothing. He put the flowers on the kitchen table. “Candace?”

No answer. Was she in the shower? He took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, poured himself a glass of water and gulped thirstily. Suits should be outlawed in the summertime.

“Anyone home?”

Still no answer. He was disappointed and slightly disconcerted. Maybe she was taking a walk? Though in this heat, he didn’t see the point. Was she on the phone upstairs? He walked through the kitchen door, down the hallway, up the stairs, peeked into the bedroom that used to be hers but was currently his—the room they’d shared their first night together, heavily drugged.

The shades were drawn, the room dim and quiet. But on the bed, a long Candace-shaped lump under the sheet. Exactly how she must have looked the first night he stumbled in here and didn’t notice her. He was about to back out, tenderly leaving her to the sleep she obviously needed after her encounter with her mother, when she moved—a leg, then an arm—and made that small sleepy sound that had woken him that first night when the drug had started wearing off.

There was no way he could walk out now. He was drawn to her like an addict to his fix. At the side of the bed, he sat and watched. The curve of her bare shoulder, the cascade of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her midsection. This was one beautiful, sweet and supremely hot woman. If she left him, he’d shrivel like a grape left on the vine, surrendering his full, ripe prime to dried-up raisinhood.

She moved again, made another soft noise, and Nolan was undone. He leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on the smooth skin of her upper arm, when suddenly the sheet was swept back.

He made a choked sound of surprise.

His sweet soft angel was wearing a black lace bustier, black lace garter belt, black fishnet stockings and, incredibly, black stiletto ankle boots.

“Hey there.” She smiled with the innocence of a woman who’s been around the block enough times to make it dizzy. “I’ve been expecting you.”

He gaped like a fool. A fool whose pants were getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. “Candace. You were—I mean, you weren’t—Mmph.”