The Man Who Saw Her Beauty. Michelle DouglasЧитать онлайн книгу.
any trouble.’
Yep, his very best manners. And just like that she didn’t want him to apologise any more. She wanted him and his disturbing presence and her even more disturbing reaction to him to walk out through that door and leave her in peace.
For a brief moment today she’d experienced something she hadn’t felt in quite some time—optimism. She’d felt she had something of value to offer to someone. Namely Stevie. And then this man had come along and deflated it with his harsh words and dismissive attitude.
Still, it had been refreshing to be abused rather than mollycoddled.
She snapped herself back into the present and put the jug on to boil, spooned tea into the pot. Nicholas and his unnerving masculinity weren’t going to walk out through that door just yet, because she’d offered him tea as hospitality demanded. The sooner the tea was done, the sooner he’d leave.
She chose her aunt’s tiniest teacups instead of her usual generous mugs.
He didn’t speak until they were seated at the kitchen table and Blair had poured the tea.
He didn’t speak even then. She bit back a sigh. ‘You said you wanted to apologise?’
He nodded, surveying her over the rim of his cup, his eyes not wavering from hers. ‘That’s right.’
She bit back another sigh. It came from deep down inside her, wistful and full of yearning for something she didn’t want to look at too closely. ‘Apology accepted. Forget about it.’ Life was too short to hold grudges.
‘Hey, I haven’t made it yet. Besides, it’s not that simple, city girl.’ He smiled, but there were shadows in his eyes. ‘Earlier, you said something about looking exactly the same. What did you mean?’
‘Nothing. Forget about it.’ Their gazes clashed and locked, and she cursed her rotten defensive self-consciousness. Earlier he’d looked at her as if he’d liked what he saw—really liked it—and for a moment something inside her had responded.
And then she’d remembered the scars, no right breast, no hair—and had imagined his reaction if he could see the real her. Those tart words had come spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them.
His eyes refused to release her. ‘I’ve been ill.’ She was the first to break eye contact. ‘But I’m all better again.’
Better? Yes.
Would a man ever find her attractive again? Unlikely.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. She risked a glance at him. He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been ill, Blair. You’re home to recuperate?’
‘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