The Man Who Saw Her Beauty

‘I’m recuperated.’ She wanted to be clear about that. ‘I’m home for some R&R. A holiday.’

His eyes narrowed. She refused to let hers drop this time. Finally he shook his head. ‘None of that changes the fact that I shouldn’t have lost my temper and said the things I did without a thought for anything but my …’

‘Your?’ She preferred to follow his train of thought than her own.

He set his teacup down. ‘Fear.’

It shouldn’t be sexy when a man admitted to being afraid. Only, where Nicholas Conway was concerned, it was. Maybe it was the way he held her gaze as he made the admission. She moistened suddenly dry lips. He watched the action and his eyes darkened. It was hellishly sexy.

Hellish.

‘Fear never brings out the best in a man, and it seems I was hellbent on yelling at someone.’

She saw now that maybe he’d needed to.

He grimaced. ‘If I’d known you’d been sick, though …’

‘No harm done on my account. Like I said, I’m well again now.’ She nearly spread her arms to add, Don’t I look the picture of health? Only on further consideration she didn’t want him looking at her that closely. He might take it as an invitation, as flirting.

She wasn’t inviting anything.

‘Blair, I really am very sorry. My behaviour was appalling.’

‘Apology accepted.’ Please go now.

‘The thing is, I’ve screwed up royally and I need to make amends.’

‘Not to me.’

‘A bit to you,’ he said cautiously, ‘and a lot to Stevie.’

She sat back.

‘Which is why I need you to forgive me.’

‘Because …?’

‘Because I’m taking back everything I said, I’m asking that Stevie be reinstated as an entrant for the Miss Showgirl quest, and I’m begging you to help Stevie the way you told her you would.’

He took a sip of his tea, as if his throat needed the moisture after that admission. His big hand on the tiny teacup should have looked clumsy, but it didn’t. His eyes surveyed her over the rim and she remembered all the things he’d said about the Miss Showgirl quest. He’d implied that it was a waste of time, a waste of brains, and a waste of talent, and by association that she was worthless too.

And yet with one look he could have her prickling and burning all over. He’d come here fully expecting to be forgiven, presuming she’d be happy to bend over backwards to help him out.

And she had. And she was. And that made her angry too.

‘And what happens next week when you change your mind all over again? Will I find you banging on my door to hurl more abuse at me?’

His jaw dropped. ‘Of course not.’

‘You expect me to take your word for that? I don’t know you from Adam.’

‘I—’

‘Have you changed your mind about the …?’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘What was it? Sad, jumped-up little beauty pageant?’

He didn’t say anything and she realised he hadn’t changed his mind about anything. But he was still going to let Stevie enter? She folded her arms, intrigued despite her best intentions.

‘If I hadn’t interfered, if I hadn’t lost my cool, you’d still be happy to help Stevie out like you’d told her you would.’

She had every intention of keeping her promise to Stevie. Still, it wouldn’t hurt him to sweat for a bit. ‘But now I have to take into account a temperamental parent.’

He half rose out of his chair. ‘I’m not temperamental!’

‘Are you yelling at me, Mr Conway?’

He subsided back into his seat. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘It’s just … Stevie shouldn’t pay for my mistake.’

No, she shouldn’t.

‘And it’s Nicholas—Nick—not Mr Conway.’

Blair considered him for a moment. She almost chuckled at the way he tried to hide his glower. ‘I was right, wasn’t I? Stevie took your lack of support to mean you didn’t believe she had a scarecrow’s chance of winning. I’m right, aren’t I?’

His deepening scowl told her she was.

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ he ground out.

‘I am taking a fiendish kind of delight in it.’ She didn’t scruple to admit it.

‘And when will you deem that I’ve been punished enough?’

‘Oh, your punishment hasn’t even begun yet, Mr—’

‘Nick!’ he snapped. His hand clenched to a fist on the table. ‘Will you help Stevie?’ he burst out. ‘Please?’

He loved his daughter. He wanted her to be happy. And he hated the Miss Showgirl quest.

‘I will help Stevie on one condition, Nicholas. That you support her fully in her Miss Showgirl efforts.’

‘Sure I will. I’m here, aren’t I?’

Her smile grew, and she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘By taking on the role of her fundraising manager. By co-ordinating and directing all her fundraising efforts.’

Nick’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t expect me to …’ He let the sentence trail off. The pictures rising in his mind were too hideous to put into words. Him get involved in the dog-eat-dog world of a beauty pageant?

She sent him a pitying glance. ‘Oh, no, Nicholas. I expect a whole lot more than that.’

His stomach clenched to hard ball of lead. ‘More?’ he croaked.

‘But fundraising manager will do for a start.’

He wouldn’t know where to begin.

‘You were serious weren’t you? About making it up to Stevie?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Words are cheap.’

He saw then that she was right. He could repeat over and over again until he was blue in the face that he had faith in her, he could say it till the cows came home—and he would the moment he got home—but the only way to truly reassure Stevie, to prove that he believed in her, was to support her in a material way. Like co-ordinating her fundraising efforts.

On the up side, being involved did mean he’d have a chance of protecting her against the more unsavoury aspects of the pageant, the competitiveness and bitchiness and constant undermining of one’s self-esteem …

‘It looks as though you have yourself a deal, city girl.’ He could have sworn, though, that when he extended his hand she was curiously reluctant to take it.

Blair might act all haughty and aloof, but somehow he knew he’d needled his way in under her skin. The thought made him grin. It made him hold her hand for longer than custom demanded.

When he finally released her the colour in her cheeks was high and a purely masculine satisfaction settled in the pit of his stomach.

Game on.

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