He raised his head slowly. Breaking off the kiss required a serious act of willpower.
"Definitely not just friends," he said.
He turned away, went down the steps, and got into his car.
A short time later he drove into the newly paved, heavily landscaped parking lot at Dreamscape and slotted the BMW into the empty space next to Rafe's Porsche. He glanced at his watch as he got out. It was after eleven. The restaurant had been closed for over an hour. The vehicles that remained in the lot belonged to the overnight guests. There were a number of them.
Dreamscape had been an immediate success from the first day of operation. In addition to tourists, the inn drew a steady clientele from the institute and Chamberlain College.
He walked up the steps of the wide veranda that surrounded the lower floor of the inn. The front door opened just as he reached out to lean on the little bell.
"Heard the engine," Rafe said. "Figured it was you." He stood aside to allow Nick into the front hall. "Want some coffee?"
"No, thanks. Just had some." He nodded at the balding, middle-aged man who emerged from the office behind the front desk. "'Evening, Eddie."
"Hello, Nick. Come to collect your boy?"
"Yes."
"How was the hot date with the charming Miss Brightwell?" Rafe asked.
"No comment."
Rafe gave him a commiserating look and closed the door. "That bad, huh? You know, I wondered if she was really your type."
"No comment means no comment. I thought you Madisons were real big on a no-kiss-and-tell policy."
"Hey, we're family now, remember?" Rafe grinned. "I'm just trying to show a little brotherly interest in your personal affairs, that's all."
"Brotherly interest, my ass, you're just—" He broke off at the sight of Hannah appearing in the opening that led to the central corridor and the solarium.
"About time you got here," she said.
"It's not that late," Nick said, feeling oddly defensive. "Just because you old married folks go to bed early doesn't mean the rest of us are obliged to keep the same boring hours."
"Good point." Rafe raised a brow. "It isn't even midnight, Cinderella. What are you doing here this early? I told you we'd be happy to let Carson stay the night if you got lucky."
Hannah turned on Rafe with a withering glare. "You told him that? You actually said something so extremely tacky?"
"He's a Madison," Nick reminded her. "He was born tacky. We can only pray that your classy Harte genes will overpower his unfortunate genetic inheritance when you two decide to start making babies."
Hannah gave him an odd look. Rafe's mouth curved but he refrained from comment. Nick got the feeling he was missing the joke.
"Well?" Hannah said in that tone of voice that meant she was deliberately changing the subject and everyone else had better go along. "How was the date with Octavia? Did you have a nice time? Where did you two have dinner?"
He studied his sister. There was something different about her lately. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it but it was almost as though she harbored a special secret. Marriage definitely agreed with her, he thought. But, then, with the glaring exception of himself, it agreed with Hartes, in general.
"Her place," he said neutrally.
"Oh, man," Rafe muttered. "You went back to her place and she kicked you out before eleven o'clock. Not good." He shook his head. "I'd be happy to give you a little brotherly advice on how to behave yourself on a first date with a nice lady, Harte. Least I could do, you being family and all."
"You can take your helpful dating advice down to the Total Eclipse Bar and Grill and stuff it where the sun don't shine."
"Touchy, are we? Okay, but it's your loss, pal."
He'd had enough, Nick decided. He looked at Hannah. "Got my son?"
"Sound asleep in the library." Her expression softened. "Winston is keeping an eye on him." She hesitated. "He seemed a little concerned about your relationship with Octavia."
"Winston is concerned about my personal life?"
"Not my dog. Your son. He mentioned several times this evening that he was afraid you might make her mad."
Rafe sighed. "Apparently even little Carson is aware of your lack of finesse with the ladies."
"My son is first and foremost a Harte," Nick said dryly. "His chief concern is making sure that nothing gets in the way of his current objective."
"And that objective would be?"
"Getting his picture of Winston exhibited in the Children's Art Show."
"A worthy ambition," Hannah murmured. "And I'm sure the portrait is stunning. Winston, after all, is an excellent subject. But what does your relationship with Octavia have to do with getting the picture exhibited?"
Nick grimaced. "Carson is afraid that if I annoy Octavia she might refuse to hang the portrait in the show."
"A reasonable cause for anxiety under the circumstances," Rafe said cheerfully.
Hannah looked startled. "Oh, I really don't think she'd take out her hostility on a little boy. She isn't the sort of person who would do that. Octavia is very nice."
"So," Rafe said a little too easily, "what, exactly, are you doing to annoy such a nice lady, Harte?"
"You know," Nick said, taking another look at his watch, "it really is getting late, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," Hannah said. She swung around on her heel and disappeared down the long, central hall.
Nick and Rafe followed her. They all came to a halt at the entrance to a comfortable, book-lined room. The dark expanse of the bay filled the space behind the windows. The library lights had been turned down low. Music played softly. A number of the comfortable, overstuffed chairs were occupied by guests who were sipping after-dinner cordials and coffee and talking quietly.
In the corner two small figures sprawled across a mound of pillows. Several children's books were scattered on the rug beside them. Most of the stories featured dogs.
Nick crossed the room and looked down at Carson, who was dressed in jeans, running shoes, and a sweatshirt. The boy was sound asleep, one arm flung across Winston. The Schnauzer raised his head from his paws and regarded Nick with intelligent eyes.
"Thanks for looking after him, Winston. I'll take over now."
Nick scratched Winston behind the ears and then scooped up his son.
Relieved of his nanny duties for the evening, Winston got to his feet and stretched. He snuffled politely around Nick's shoes and then trotted briskly toward Hannah.
