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Silence stretched between them. He heard the creak of wood as she settled back on the lounge. He set the empty cup on his chest and closed his eyes once more. Having her here brought him a sense of peace he had no right to feel. He wanted to reach out and lace his fingers with hers but didn’t dare to.
“I can see why you and your brothers bought this place. I could sit here for days and stare at the view.”
Nic snorted softly. Brooke had never been one to sit anywhere and stare at anything. She was a whirling dervish of energy and enthusiasm.
“I can’t believe how blue the water is. And the town is so quaint. I can’t wait to go exploring.”
Exploring? Nic needed to figure out how to get her on a plane back to America as soon as possible before he gave in to temptation. Given her knack for leading with her emotions, reasoning with her wouldn’t work. Threats wouldn’t work, either. The best technique for dealing with Brooke was to let her have her way and that absolutely couldn’t happen this time. Or ever again, for that matter.
When she broke the silence, the waver in her voice betrayed worry. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t mean that.” She paused, offering him the opportunity to take back what he’d said. When he didn’t, her face took on a troubled expression. “You do mean that. What about Griffin? What about the team? You can’t just give it all up.”
“Someone died because of a flaw in a system I designed—”
She gripped his forearm. “Glen was the one pushing for the test. He didn’t listen when you told him it wasn’t ready. He’s the one to blame.”
“Walter died.” He enunciated the words, letting her hear his grief. “It was my fault.”
“So that’s it? You are giving up because something went wrong? You expect me to accept that you’re throwing away your life’s work? To do what?”
He had no answer. What the hell was he going to do in Sherdana besides get married and produce an heir? He had no interest in helping run the country. That was Gabriel’s job. And his other brother Christian had his businesses and investments to occupy him. All Nic wanted to do, all he’d ever wanted to do, was build rockets that would someday carry people into space. With that possibility extinguished, his life stretched before him, empty and filled with regret.
“There’s something else going on.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “Don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.”
Nic patted her hand. “I would never do that, Dr. Davis.” A less intelligent woman wouldn’t have captivated him so completely, no matter how beautiful. Brooke’s combination of sex appeal and brains had delivered a fatal one-two punch. “How many doctorates do you have now, anyway?”
“Only two.” She jerked her hand from beneath his, reacting to his placating tone. “And don’t change the subject.” Despite her annoyance, a huge yawn practically dislocated her jaw as she glared at him.
“You’re tired.” Showing concern for her welfare might encourage her, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’ve been on planes since yesterday sometime. Do you know how long it takes to get here?” She closed her eyes. “About twenty hours. And I couldn’t sleep on the flight over.”
“Why?”
A deep breath pushed her small, pert breasts tight against her sleeveless white cotton blouse.
“Because I was worried about you, that’s why.”
* * *
The admission was a cop-out. It was fourth on her list of reasons why she’d flown six thousand miles to talk to him in person rather than breaking her news over the phone.
But she wasn’t prepared to blurt out that she was eight weeks pregnant within the first ten minutes of arriving.
She had a lot of questions about why he’d broken off their relationship four weeks earlier. Questions she hadn’t asked at first because she’d been too hurt to wonder why he’d dropped her when things between them had been so perfect. Then the fatal accident had happened with Griffin. Nic had left California and she’d never received closure.
“I don’t need your concern,” he said.
“Of course you don’t.” She crammed all the skepticism she could muster into her tone to keep from revealing how much his rebuff stung. “That’s why you look like week-old roadkill.”
Although his expression didn’t change, his voice reflected amusement. “Nice image.”
She surveyed his disheveled state, thought about the circles she’d seen beneath his eyes, their utter lack of vitality. The thick black stubble on his cheeks made her wonder how long it had been since he’d shaved. No matter how hard he worked, she’d never seen his golden-brown eyes so flat and lifeless. He really did look like death warmed over.
