bacon while she watched Nick dig into his food with gusto. The recent exchange between Daisy and her dad had left a bad taste in her mouth. Nick, on the other hand, was relishing his breakfast.
“Gotta hand it to her. Daisy is a good cook, even though she doesn’t tell the truth,” Veronique acknowledged. She raised her brows and met his gaze. “She was cooking up more than breakfast in that outfit. Felipe looked furious.”
“Can’t say that I blame him. She shouldn’t have lied.” Nick set his fork down and splayed his hands out in a stretch. “There’s too much damn drama going on around here. That girl is outta control.”
No kidding . From the way Nick acted toward Daisy, she surmised they hadn’t slept together—yet. Daisy was sixteen years younger than Nick, but she was out to seduce him. Why else would she cook in such revealing shorts? The baby doll she’d worn last night had been practically see-through—good thing they’d been in the dark. This morning, Daisy had been wearing pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. Who wore earrings and make-up after a hurricane, for God’s sake?
Veronique fed Baxter a piece of her bacon. “How did she come to be your housekeeper? Did she ask for the job?”
“She didn’t have to. When I saw her working in the yard with a pregnant belly, I brought her inside to work.”
Her heart fluttered as she gazed at him tenderly. She had a soft spot for Nick’s innate compassion. It knocked her off her feet every time—especially now. What a dichotomy—a successful corporate raider who was capable of compassion. No wonder Zack and Elizabeth had thought they could destroy him.
“That was kind of you,” she said.
“I’m not the same guy at camp, Ronnie,” Nick said, his tone flat.
“You’re still kind,” she persisted, smiling at him.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, working out the kinks. “I wouldn’t call it being kind. I needed a housekeeper and she fit the bill. I had sunk down real low, drinking too much and sleeping too much.”
“When was this?” she asked, hating to imagine Nick like that.
“Six months ago. I was a mess and this place was a shambles.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What made you clean up?”
“I didn’t want to end up like my old man. He was a nasty, mean drunk. The day Mom left him and took my sister and I with her is the day I started living without fear.”
“I hear you,” Veronique said with a heavy sigh. “My dad wasn’t a mean drunk, just a sloppy one. I hated to see him stumbling around.” When her famous father had drunk too much he’d became a drooling, crass man who couldn’t keep his balance. She shuddered at the memory.
“Not a pretty sight for a little girl,” Nick commiserated, shaking his head.
“Yes, but when Daddy was sober, he was awesome.” She couldn’t help feeling bad that she’d brought to light her father’s tragic flaws. “Every morning, we’d have breakfast together and instead of reading the paper, he’d give me his full attention. He always asked, ‘What good thing are you planning on doing today, Ronnie?’ He was big on social reform. So am I.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.
She tapped his hand. “You’re one to talk. You have a strong social conscience too.”
Nick didn’t respond to that, just sat there gazing at her with an unreadable expression.
She sighed. “Luckily, I only saw Daddy in bad form a few times because I had a ridiculously early bedtime.”
“I never had a bedtime. What time was yours?”
“Nine o’clock. Nanny Millie was a real drill sergeant. No amount of pleading or arguing changed her mind. But when she left the room and got out of my hair, I would read till midnight,” she said with a triumphant grin.
He nodded. “Just like when you were in camp.”
Astonished that he’d bring it up, she said, “You remember that?”
“The only time you were quiet was when you were