On The Way To A Wedding

by Ingrid Weaver

“Oh?”

  “On the surface it can be elegant and sophisticated, but with a bit of practice, a person can find a whole lot of unexpected levels. Over the last nine days, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “Country music isn’t all that bad, either. It’s honest and straightforward. I suppose I’ve started to get used to it, too.”

  “Listen to that beat,” he said, moving toward her. “It’s sexy as hell, isn’t it?”

  “I never thought of it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You probably never thought that those stiff business suits you like to wear are sexy, either, but they are.”

  “They’re not meant to be.”

  “That’s my point. I like it that other men don’t know about that dynamite body underneath your suit. I like knowing about the woman no one else sees, Lauren. And despite all the differences between us, we’ve made a pretty good team.”

  “I wouldn’t have predicted it at first.”

  “Me, neither.” He stopped in front of her. For a moment he simply looked at her, his gaze filled with the same anticipation that sparkled along her nerves. “The last time we were here, when I woke up and saw you standing in my kitchen, I didn’t hold out much hope that you’d help me, but I was wrong.”

  “Considering the situation, it was my only choice.”

  “You could have walked away.”

  “No. You needed me.”

  “I still need you, Lauren. Stay the night, just this once. Let’s finish what we started. No promises or strings, just two people doing what comes naturally.”

  There it was, out in the open at last, a proposition that was as blunt as it was honest.

  What on earth was she doing here? Lauren thought belatedly, a last spurt of reason trying to cut through the sensual fog she was enveloped in. It was late, almost morning. She should—

  “Don’t,” Nick said, lifting his hands to cradle her cheeks. “Please, Lauren. Don’t go back yet.”

  “I need to get home. I have to work tomorrow.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Don’t go back behind that ice wall yet. I want...” His mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “Damn, I’m not good with words.”

  She felt his palms move over her skin, leashed strength in his restrained touch. She made her living with words, but right now she knew she wouldn’t be any good with them, either. Sighing, she pressed her cheek into his hand.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  No, she didn’t want to retreat behind her walls yet. They’d been through this last night. This had been building from the moment she’d first seen him. Neither of them had any illusions about what this meant, so neither of them would be hurt.

  Why shouldn’t she take what he was offering?

  And why was she hesitating, anyway? She’d already made her decision. She’d known what was going to happen since they’d left the police station three hours ago.

  “Lauren?”

  “No, I want to stay.”

  He smiled one of his eye-crinkling, cheek-dimpling smiles, the kind that always made her go weak. “Good,” he said, sliding his fingers into her hair. Carefully he eased out the pins that held what was left of her twist in place. His smile grew as he watched her hair tumble over his wrists. “God, I like doing that.”

  It felt wonderful to have him touching her. If it was a mistake, then perhaps it would be worth it. She couldn’t handle emotional intimacy, but this was sex, that’s all. No strings, no promises.

  Swaying forward, she clasped her hands behind his neck and nestled closer. She nuzzled her nose against his throat and inhaled greedily, filling her senses with his unique scent. “I like your after-shave.”

  “I don’t use any.”

  She shook her head, smiling into his collar. “I was afraid of that.”

  Nick stroked his hands down her back, anchoring them at her waist as he swayed from side to side with her to the music that filled the quiet room. It was a moment out of time, as if everything that had happened, and everything they had yet to face, simply faded away. Moving in harmony, they danced together, their hearts keeping perfect rhythm.

  “Lauren?”

  She tilted back her head to look into his face. “Mmm?”

  Bracing his legs apart, he cupped her bottom and lifted her against him, showing her without words the effect she was having on his body.

  At the feel of him, so hard, so large, the warm glow of awareness blazed to passion. Lauren responded instantly, her breath catching, a shudder of longing rippling through her. “Oh, Nick,” she whispered, clutching his shoulders, pressing her breasts to his chest, trying to get closer.

  He lowered his head, catching her earlobe between his teeth. He tugged gently, then sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive skin until she shuddered. Still holding her against him, he took a step backward, bringing them beside the sofa. In one smooth movement, he carried her down to the cushions.

  Lauren felt his weight settle over her and sighed with pleasure. She thrust her fingers into his hair, guiding his face downward, needing his kiss. His lips were warm and firm and possessive as they molded to hers. They had kissed before, but this time it was different. She sensed it in the pressure, in the way he angled his head. She tasted it in his urgency as he plunged his tongue past her lips. It was different, because this time they wouldn’t stop.

  The certainty didn’t frighten her. It freed her. With a sound that was half moan, half cry, she slipped her hands between them and groped for the buttons of his shirt.

  At the touch of her fingers on his flesh, Nick felt his teetering control slip another notch. He didn’t want to rush her. He wanted to savor every moment, make the night last, give them both a chance to quench the need once and for all. But she was the one who was rushing. She was the one whose hands were trembling. Those throaty sounds, the writhing of her soft body, the delicate, womanly scent that rose from her heated skin were driving him wild.

  Wrenching his mouth from hers, he straddled her thighs, raising himself up so he could get rid of his shirt. He tossed it to the floor, then reached for the hem of Lauren’s sweater. Without hesitation, she arched her back off the cushions, helping him strip off her bra as well. Her eyes gleaming, her hair tangled in abandon, she smiled and unbuckled his belt.

  The desire that shot through him made him throb to the brink of pain. Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted Lauren. All thoughts of control fled from his mind as the rest of their clothes were discarded in a flurry of sliding, ripping fabric.

  Skin against skin, they feasted on what they had merely tasted before. She was sweet, and she was slick. Parting her legs with his knees, Nick stroked her until she gasped and reached out, her delicate fingers curling firmly around his length in a demand neither of them could deny any longer. His pulse racing, his hands shaking, he took a condom from the pocket of his jeans and smoothed it into place. Grasping her hips, he held her steady as she guided him inside.

  “Oh, Nick,” she breathed. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her lips parted on another gasp as he pushed forward. She wrapped her legs around his waist, instinctively finding the angle that would bring him deeper. “Oh, Nick, hurry.”

  Her whispered plea sent him over the edge. Reaching past her, he braced his hands against the arm of the sofa, flexed his legs and drove himself hard and fast.

  She clutched his shoulders, her nails raking his skin, her breasts heaving with the rhythm of his thrusts. Tension built and coiled and built, spiraling upward with dizzying speed. Lauren stiffened, clenching her entire body as she flung back her head and cried out.

  Dipping his head, Nick slanted his mouth across hers, sealing their joining in a kiss as the intimate tremors of her release triggered his own.

  Gradually her grip on his shoulders loosened. She lowered her legs, sliding the soles of her feet down his thighs, and another shudder shook them both. He lifted his head, looking into her flushed face. He’d always thought that she was beautiful, but seeing he
r like this made him wish he had the eloquence of a poet. He wanted to say something. After the incredible power of what had happened here between then, he felt he should say something.

  But what? He wasn’t a man who made promises. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted any.

  Lauren blinked and looked up at him. Her lips were still moist and parted, her expression bordering on... surprise.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  She shifted, sliding her hands over his back. “That was...” Her breath stirred his hair as she sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  The radio still played softly, the music moody and subdued. The corduroy ridges of the sofa dug uncomfortably into his bad knee. On the floor beside them their clothes lay in a heap like the tangled wreckage after a storm.

  He’d thought once they made love she would be out of his system.

  He’d been wrong.

  Oh, it had been good. Better than he had imagined. Better than he’d known possible. He should have been satisfied.

  Instead, the desire that still coursed through his veins shook him to his very core.

  It must have been because they’d gone so fast. Or maybe they’d let the tension between them build too high for too long. Considering all the time they’d been forced to spend together, it was only natural the fire wouldn’t be snuffed out that quickly.

  He trailed his fingertips down her cheek to her neck, then lowered his hand to her chest, spreading his fingers, absorbing the lingering heat of the flush that tinged her skin. He traced the upper curves of her breasts, remembering her taste, her texture, the sound of their bodies sliding together....

  “Lauren?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I changed my mind,” he said. “Once isn’t going to be enough.”

  “What do you...” Her gaze met his, her eyes widening as he eased back inside. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “Already?”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he shifted to his back, positioning her above him. “Yeah. That okay?”

  She ran her tongue across her lower lip, licking the moisture he’d left from his kiss, then smiled and rotated her hips.

  She didn’t reply aloud. There was no need. For the rest of the night, they let their bodies express what words could not.

  Chapter 12

  Holding her hands stiffly, Lauren patted the loose papers into a neat stack, closed the folder and slipped it into her briefcase. The silence that followed dragged on for a full minute, hovering in the station manager’s office like a thick fog.

  She’d known this meeting was going to be difficult. She’d seen what Nick had gone through when he’d finally revealed the situation to his captain. Although Victoria Sandowsky didn’t resemble the portly Captain Gilmour in appearance, their temperaments were remarkably similar.

  “I can’t believe you sat on this story for ten days,” Victoria said, folding her arms on the edge of her desk and glaring at Lauren over the rims of her glasses.

  Lauren smoothed her damp palms over her skirt and crossed her legs, striving to maintain her facade of calm as Gord Skinner fidgeted in the chair beside her. “As I explained, it was essential to the safety of Lieutenant Strada’s family to maintain my silence.”

  “And you let me make an ass of myself on network TV,” Gord said, twisting to face her. “You let me go ahead with that special, even let me interview you and you never let on that it was a lie.”

  “I understand your anger,” Lauren said. “But if you calm down and think about it for a minute, it’s not all that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” he repeated incredulously. “The guy I built up into a hero is a fake. I’ve been had.”

  “Just because he’s not dead doesn’t change who he is or what he did. He still saved those people after the crash.”

  “Then the least you can do is let me take it from here,” he said. He turned toward Victoria. “Let me go on the air, do the live interview myself. My credibility as a journalist is at stake because of this hoax Lauren took part in. It’s only fair that I should be the one to break this story.”

  “What do you think, Lauren?” Victoria asked. “He has a good point.”

  She clasped her hands more tightly, her damp fingertips sliding over knuckles that went white. Give up her story? How could she walk away from it now? It was the reason she’d put herself through all of this in the first place. It was what had kept her going. It was all she had left now that the charade was over and Nick was gone....

  “Lauren?”

  Pressing her lips together, she slowly shook her head. “I’ve tracked this story from the beginning,” she said firmly. “I’d like to see it through to the end.”

  Victoria took off her glasses and polished them on a fold of her skirt, letting the silence draw out before she spoke again. “While I understand your desire to follow through, I’m concerned about the damage that has been done here, not only to Gord’s credibility, but to the station’s. You should have let us know the moment you discovered Lieutenant Strada was alive.”

  “It wasn’t an option. As I said, it was essential to his investigation that I maintain my silence.”

  “Your priority should have been your job, not his. Even if the news couldn’t be aired, we should have been informed. We never would have milked Gord’s dead-hero story if we’d known the truth.”

  “I apologize if you feel I acted unprofessionally.”

  “You were probably in shock after surviving that crash. Your judgment was clouded.” She fitted her glasses back on and crossed her arms with an air of finality. “But whatever the reasons behind your lapse, we have to present a united front to our viewers. Therefore I’ve decided that Gord will be the one to break the news to the public.”

  Lauren felt her breath rush from her lungs as if someone had punched her. She shook her head. “What?”

  “You’ll be included in the interview, of course, but you will be one of the subjects, not the interviewer.”

  “But I’ve been working on this for—”

  “By providing shelter to Lieutenant Strada and assisting him in his investigation, you involved yourself too closely with your subject,” Victoria went on relentlessly. “You can’t report the news properly when you’re part of the story.”

  “You can’t do this,” Lauren said. Curling her fingers into her palms, she rose to her feet. “I made a deal with Captain Gilmour as well as Nick. I’ve been given an exclusive—”

  “Which I’m positive you’ll be happy to pass on to your colleague.”

  She looked at Gord. He was rubbing his chin, trying to look appropriately grave, but he could barely contain his glee. She set her jaw, feeling a sudden wave of anger. “I did all the work. I turned my life upside down. And now you expect me to simply hand everything over to him on a silver platter?”

  “You’re too close to this, and the way you’re reacting now only proves my point.”

  “Well, I’m afraid the bulk of the information I’ve gathered is in the hands of the police, so I’m unable to give it to you at this time.”

  “Lauren, this isn’t like you,” Victoria said. “If you refuse to cooperate, I won’t find it so easy to excuse the damage you’ve done to this station’s integrity.”

  The anger was rapidly deepening, pushing against her crumbling facade of calm. She placed her hands on the edge of Victoria’s desk, leaned forward and matched her glare for glare. “This isn’t fair, and you know it.”

  “I really have no choice. We have to do what’s best for everyone.”

  “If Gord and this station hadn’t been so eager to cash in on what he thought was a dead hero, there wouldn’t be any damage done to your integrity in the first place.”

  “Hey, don’t go blaming this on me,” Gord said.

  She whirled around. “It was disgusting the way you were so happy over capturing the moment of Nick’s death. And the way you intruded on his family’s grief was obsc
ene. They’re not just stories, they’re people.”

  He held up his hands. “That’s the nature of the business, Lauren. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Just because we report the news doesn’t mean we have to lose touch with our humanity. Don’t condemn me because for once I decided to be human.”

  A stunned silence followed her outburst. In disbelief, Lauren realized she’d been shouting.

  “Lauren, you’ve obviously been under a great deal of strain,” Victoria said. “After you do the interview with Gord and Lieutenant Strada, I’d like you to take the rest of the week off.”

  She breathed deeply a few times before she was able to reply. “I can still do my job, Victoria.”

  “I shouldn’t have believed you last week when you said you were fit to work.”

  “Is this a punishment? Is that why you’re giving the story to Gord and getting rid of me?”

  “Of course not, Lauren. This is for the good of everyone concerned.”

  “But—”

  “It’s just a temporary leave of absence,” she continued implacably. “Give yourself some time to put things back in perspective.”

  Lauren nodded curtly, picked up her briefcase and left the room. It was good advice, she decided, using all of her self-control to keep from slamming the door behind her. She definitely needed to put things in perspective before she said or did something that would get her fired.

  She took the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping to work off the rest of her anger. Yet when she reached the privacy of her office, the emotion was still there. Before she could stop herself, she stepped over the threshold and threw her briefcase against the nearest wall.

  The impact produced a loud, satisfying thud and sprang open the latches. Papers and file folders spewed out in a fluttering arc. The pen that Lauren had been using ricocheted off the filing cabinet and bounced across the dingy gray carpet, coming to rest against the toe of her shoe.

  Pressing her hands to her cheeks, she stared at the mess she had created.

  Lauren, this isn’t like you.

  Victoria was right. This wasn’t like her. She’d had disagreements over stories in the past, yet during the nine years that she’d worked here, she had never once lost her temper. Her method of dealing with unpleasantness had been to retreat from the situation, to distance herself, to maintain her control at all costs.