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As he settled her onto it, he said, “We’ll definitely do it again, but you’ve had enough right now. Time for a little aftercare and then I’ll take you up to one of the VIP suites for some champagne and…” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making her laugh again.
As she reclined on the couch sipping sparkling water, he smoothed a healing cream over the worst of her welts. Just as he was finishing, there was a sudden, sharp knock on the door.
Nick swung his head toward the sound, scowling with annoyance. Who the hell was that?
“Do we need to get that?” Sophia asked. “It sounds pretty insistent.”
“Fuck, no,” Nick swore. “My staff knows better than to disturb me. It’s got to be some new member or other who’s confused. We’ll just ignore it and they’ll go away.”
But the knocking continued, now accompanied by a masculine voice he recognized as Phillip’s, Elizabeth’s second in command. “Excuse me, Mr. Kincaid,” Phillip called through the door. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but there’s an emergency at the other club. Apparently, the place is on fire. A four-alarm fire, sir,” he added in an urgent tone. “Elizabeth felt you needed to be told at once.”
“A fire,” Nick cried. “Is anyone hurt? How did it start?” He had risen to his feet without realizing it. He glanced back at Sophia, who had lost that dreamy, satiated look.
She was regarding him with concern. “Pull on your clothes,” she urged. “You have to go. Obviously, you have to go, Nick.”
“I can’t just leave you,” he began, but she was already up too. She strode purposely toward his clothing and gathered it into a bundle. He glanced helplessly from her to the closed door.
Of course, she was right. He had to go. His people could be in trouble. Someone might be hurt. He had to get over there and see what was happening. While Sam, the manager at Impulse II, was good, he couldn’t be expected to handle this all on his own.
“Okay, Phil,” Nick called through the door. “I’m getting dressed. I’ll be right out. Call Samir and make sure he’s out front waiting when I get down there.”
“Yes, Mr. Kincaid,” Phillip replied, the relief evident in his tone. “Right away, sir.”
Nick pulled on his underwear and trousers and slipped his arms into his shirt. He allowed Sophia to button it while he zipped his fly, buckled his belt and stuck his feet into his shoes, not bothering with the socks.
“I’m so sorry, Sophia,” he said, running his hands over his face and up through his hair. “I hate to leave you like this. I had wanted to make this night really special. I—”
“Don’t be crazy,” she interjected. “You’ve got people and property to see to. I totally understand. If it was my shop on fire, you can bet I’d be out of here in a New York minute.”
Relief flooded through him at her understanding, though the longing and remorse remained. “You’re really something. You know that?”
“So, I’ve been told,” Sophia replied with a sassy grin, though something in her face had closed—her eyes no longer directly meeting his. “Now, get the hell out of here. I’ll clean up.”
He started to protest, to explain staff would take care of that, and that he would call her a cab or she could sleep upstairs, but before he could speak, she said urgently, “We’ll talk later, Nick. This is an emergency. Do what you have to do. Go.”
She turned away suddenly, but not before he saw the tears fill her eyes, one spilling down her cheek.
“Sophia,” he cried, moving toward her.
“No,” she said sharply, her face still averted. “I’m fine. I promise. You need to get the hell out of here. They’re waiting for you.”
Knowing she was right, and not knowing what else to do, he turned on his heel and went.
Chapter 10
Nick stared at the column of numbers. They stared back at him, stark and black against the light of the computer screen, their meaning suddenly indecipherable. It was two in the morning. The whole fire mess had put him seriously behind with his other projects. Not to mention Brian had just given his abrupt notice the day after the fire, leaving stacks of unfinished analysis and paperwork for Nick to juggle, along with everything else. Margery, his very reliable and much over-worked office assistant, had stayed until nearly nine every night since Brian had baled in an effort to help get things back under control. But Nick felt as if he were swimming against the tide—and being pulled slowly out to sea.
It wasn’t long ago that he would have taken these various setbacks in stride. Nothing got Nick Kincaid down. Give him an obstacle and he’d find a way around, over or through it. He thrived on challenge and adversity. But lately, the game had lost its glitter and all he felt was exhausted.
