On The Way To A Wedding

by Ingrid Weaver

  That’s the way she dealt with everything, from a business dispute to an unfaithful fiancé. She made compromises and accepted blame and always managed to push aside her feelings. Behind a wall of ice. That’s what Nick called it. Her wall of ice.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, fumbling for the office door. She swung it closed, then picked her way across the littered carpet until she reached her desk and sank bonelessly into her chair.

  What was the matter with her? What had happened to the sense of detachment that always protected her?

  The answer was obvious. Nick Strada had happened. He’d done this. He’d shaken her out of her safe cocoon. He’d barged into her nicely ordered existence and made her do things and feel things that she’d spent most of her life avoiding.

  She had become involved. She was too close. Victoria had been right to pull her off this story, because when it came to Nick, Lauren had stopped acting like a journalist long agq.

  And after what had happened last night...

  Groaning, Lauren dropped her head into her hands. She and Nick had made love. Oh, they’d agreed it would be only the one night, and they’d parted without any awkward promises. She’d thought she could handle that.

  But how could she possibly have thought she’d be able to sit next to him in front of the studio cameras? How was she going to be able to listen to his voice and feel the heat of his body and breathe in his scent without reaching out to touch him? How could she look into his eyes without remembering the things they’d done on the sofa... and on his bed... and in the shower....

  After last night, she knew there was another reason why he would need to carry around five condoms in his pocket, and it certainly had nothing to do with using them for party decorations.

  Sex, pure and simple, right? That’s all it was. It shouldn’t have been that big a deal. Other people did it all the time.

  Yet for someone who had lived without it for as long as she had, making love with Nick had been more than merely quenching a thirst. It had been like diving into the clear, cool water of a mountain lake after wandering for days in a desert.

  But last night was over. Everything was over. And what did she have to show for it? A professional slap in the face from the station manager, a boost to the career of her most ambitious colleague, a forced leave of absence...

  And some subtle, residual tingles in some extremely intimate parts of her body.

  He’d shared his passion, and the strength of it had freed her own. But she didn’t want her passion freed. She wanted it controlled. That’s how she dealt with life. It was so much safer. Less painful.

  There was a sharp knock at her door. Lauren looked up quickly, smoothing her hair with her hands as she cleared her throat. “Come in.”

  The door swung open and Nick stepped inside, a dimpled grin on his face. “Hi, gorgeous.”

  Oh, God, she thought. Why him? Why now? She didn’t return his smile. “Hello, Nick.”

  His grin faded as he noticed the papers that had spilled from the open briefcase. He nudged the door shut and took the three steps that brought him to her desk. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She leaned back in her chair to look at him. For the first time since they’d met, he was wearing something besides jeans and cowboy boots. His leather shoes were polished to a deep luster, his tan chinos were neatly pressed. The classic masculine lines of his body were emphasized by a perfectly fitted sport coat. A tie was knotted snugly against the collar of his white shirt, his cheeks were freshly shaved and his dark hair was tamed into a sleek, slicked-back style.

  He looked well-dressed and civilized... and handsome enough to make her mouth water.

  And for some reason, that only made her anger rekindle. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

  “You invited me, remember?”

  “We can’t go on air until Duxbury’s in custody, remember?”

  He pushed aside a stack of computer printouts and sat on the corner of her desk. “I came early in case you need any help with your boss.”

  “What?”

  “I thought she might give you a rough time about what you did for me.”

  She laughed without humor. “You’re about half an hour too late. Gord got the story. I got a week’s leave of absence.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’ll back you up. So will Epstein and O’Hara if I ask them. We won’t talk to anyone but you.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but it’s better this way.”

  “Why?” he asked. “I know how important your job is to you. If I’ve caused you problems, I want to fix them.”

  “If you’ve caused me problems?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’ve caused me nothing but trouble from the moment we met. I knew it with my first whiff of your after-shave.”

  “I don’t wear after-shave.”

  She shoved her chair back and stood up. “Don’t you think I know that!”

  “Why are you yelling at me? I offered to make them give the story back.”

  Gritting her teeth, she moved past him and began to gather up the notes that were spread across the carpet. “You might as well go find Gord. He’ll tell you what’s expected when we go on air.”

  Instead of leaving, he came over to crouch beside her to help her pick up the scattered papers. “What happened here?”

  “I threw my briefcase at the wall,” she answered tersely.

  “Did it feel good?”

  “Yes.” She paused, bracing her fingertips against the floor as she turned her head to look at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it felt great.”

  He knelt on the carpet in front of her and cradled her face in his palms. “Want to know something else that might help?”

  “What?”

  “This,” he said, leaning forward. His kiss was swift and hard, knocking her back on her heels.

  She grasped his lapels for balance and inhaled sharply. “Nick!”

  “Good, huh?”

  “What was that for?”

  “I don’t want to argue.”

  “Kissing isn’t going to solve my problems.”

  “Then tell me what else I can do to help.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Want me to try calling Captain Gilmour? Your boss might change her mind if he puts pressure on her.”

  “No, Victoria was right. I shouldn’t be reporting the story if I’m part of it. I got too involved.”

  “So you’re angry at yourself for making a mistake.”

  “Yes, of course I am. I should have known better.”

  “You’re only human, Lauren,” he said. “We all make mistakes.”

  “Thanks for the news flash.”

  His gaze didn’t waver. “And you’re also angry at me for dragging you into all of this.”

  As usual, his perceptions were swift and accurate. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Hey, that suits me.” He moved his hands to her back and kissed her again, gentler this time, waiting while her lips softened and warmed beneath his. Pulling her closer, he slipped his tongue inside in a smooth, breathtaking plunge.

  Her response shocked her. The simmering emotion that she’d taken for anger transformed instantly to desire. Her pulse thudded, her breathing turned ragged and all the lin- . gering, intimate tingles she’d felt since last night suddenly flared to life.

  Paper crumpled as she shifted to her knees and pressed the front of her body to his. Tilting her head so that their mouths meshed more closely, she stroked his tongue with her own.

  The sound he made in his throat was close to a growl, sending a shiver of anticipation streaking down her spine. He gathered her closer, his muscles tensing, his thighs hard against hers. With another low, wordless rumble, he unfastened the button that held her jacket closed and slipped his hand inside.

  Lauren gasped, pulling back to look into his face. “Nick!” she whispered.

  He met her gaze boldly and raised his hand to cup her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Even through layers of s
ilk and lace his caress had the power to raise the delicate nub to aching sensitivity.

  Her breath hitched on a sudden sob of need. “Nick, I can’t think when you touch me there.”

  “Hey, join the club,” he said, lowering his head until his lips settled over hers once again. The kiss was firm and possessive, familiar and knowing. His thumb mimicked the movement of his mouth, circling, pressing, making her throb with remembered passion, making her hungry for more.

  Lauren parted her lips and arched her back, inviting him to deepen both his kiss and his caress. He readily complied. She could feel his control slipping, and a reckless excitement swept through her body.

  “Is there a lock on that office door?” he whispered against her mouth.

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll have to be quick.”

  “Nick, for heaven’s sake, we can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Make love here.”

  “Give me one more minute and we will be.”

  She bit back a moan of frustration. What on earth were they doing? They were in her office. On the floor. Anyone could walk in and find them like this.

  And yet she knew that she was close, very close, to the point of not caring.

  Muttering an oath, he raised his head. He breathed hard through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “Stand up with me.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll do it against the door. No one will come in.”

  The image sprang full blown into her mind. Against the door, her skirt hiked up, his pants undone. Yes, oh, yes. It would work.

  He moved his hand to her thigh, his fingers impatient as he pushed his hand between her legs. He murmured her name on a groan as he brushed her dampness.

  It was the sound of her own voice crying out that finally shocked her into action. Grasping the last remnants of her sanity, she pushed hard on his chest. “Nick, no!”

  A shudder shook his frame and his fingers stilled. He tipped back his head, clenching his jaw, the tendons along the sides of his neck standing out as he fought for control.

  Lauren bit her lip to stop herself from protesting as she felt him withdraw his hand. She sat back on her heels, her heart racing, her nerves thrumming. Pressing her hands to her cheeks, she gulped for air.

  “Damn,” Nick muttered. “How do you do this to me?”

  “What?”

  “Make me crazy.” He exhaled harshly and looked at her. “You make me absolutely crazy.”

  “I can’t believe...I... we...” She swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life.”

  “I only meant to kiss you.”

  “I hadn’t meant to do anything at all. I thought we were arguing.”

  “Hell of a way to make up.” His gaze dropped to her open jacket. “I shouldn’t have started this,” he said, reaching out to place his hand on her breast once more.

  She groaned softly. “Please, Nick, we can’t.”

  “I know.” He kept his palm motionless. “I had to leave you like this once before. I don’t want to again. Let me help.”

  Lauren looked into his eyes, seeing the regret and the barely leashed desire, and she felt the warmth of his hand slowly ease her swollen flesh. Gradually her breathing steadied until the sharp ache he had created dulled to a throb.

  He refastened her jacket, then pushed himself to his feet and extended his hand to help her up.

  As she reached for his hand, her gaze strayed to where the crisp fabric of his chinos was stretched across his groin. Her cheeks burned at the sight of the blatant, unmistakable bulge. And her palm tingled.

  “It wouldn’t help, Lauren,” he said tightly. “If you touch me there now...”

  Grasping his fingers, she stood up quickly, then dropped his hand and stepped back. She brushed at the wrinkles in her skirt. “I don’t know what to say, Nick.”

  “I do. One night wasn’t enough.”

  Startled, she met bis gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it? One time or one night. It’s going to take more than that to get this out of our systems. I want more, Lauren.”

  “More?”

  “We’ve got something special going on between us. Why don’t we give it a chance, see where it leads?”

  “But we agreed—”

  “So we made a mistake.”

  She glanced at the scattered papers that still littered the floor. A mistake. That’s what it was, all right. She’d been angry when he’d come in. Angry over losing her story, and over losing control of her emotions. Yet all he’d needed to do was touch her and she’d lost control again.

  She’d been a fool to think she could handle this. She’d known from the start what kind of man he was, and she should have known better than to get involved. Even a nostrings, no-future, one-night affair was enough to mess up the smooth pattern of her life.

  And he was asking for more?

  Crossing her arms tightly, she shook her head. “I think it would be best if we limit our relationship to a professional capacity. Even though it appears I won’t be doing your story anymore, we’ll probably still be coming into contact with each other—”

  “Dammit, Lauren! Don’t pull that ice princess act on me. Last night I tasted your sweat and heard you scream.”

  “I’m not denying the sex was good, but I made it clear from the start that I’m not interested in a more serious relationship.”

  “Yeah, you made it clear, all right. I should get it tattooed on my arm to remind me.”

  “Then we don’t really have anything more to discuss.”

  “So that’s it? You’re not even willing to give us a chance?”

  She shook her head again, unable to reply.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, destroying the carefully combed style. A dark lock fell across his forehead and he flicked it back impatiently. “We’re good together, Lauren. And I’m not only talking about when we’re in bed.”

  “Yes, we did manage to work well together, but it’s over now.”

  “It wasn’t over three minutes ago.”

  A quiver tickled through her stomach at the intimate timbre of his voice. She steeled herself against the involuntary response. “Please, Nick. Let’s leave this alone before one of us gets hurt.”

  He raked his hair again, then scowled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Lauren.”

  “You wouldn’t mean to. But this physical thing is going to wear off, and then you’re going to recognize all the differences between us.”

  “What? You mean the way you like neatness and cantaloupes? The way you squeeze the toothpaste in the middle? I already know all those things. We’ve lived together for more than a week. We didn’t have any big problems adjusting to each other.”

  “It’s more than that, Nick. It’s your honesty, and your bluntness, and the way you’re so... intense about everything.”

  “And that bothers you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because I don’t let you hide.”

  She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and looked at her without speaking, his gaze snapping with all the emotions she didn’t want to acknowledge. All the emotions she wanted to hide from.

  This was why she couldn’t handle another night with him, or even another minute. He had never let her hide. And once he saw that she wasn’t capable of returning those emotions, he’d leave her, anyway.

  “I guess I really did make a mistake here, Lauren,” he said finally, turning away to open the door. “I thought you were someone I knew.”

  The mural of the Chicago skyline looked exactly as it always did. The flurry of activity as the crew did the last-minute lighting and sound checks was as familiar as it always was. Lauren had watched these preparations countless times, yet what had once seemed comfortably secure now felt stifling. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t
know how she could do this.

  But the studio was already filling up. Word of what was happening had spread, and more and more of the station’s employees were gathering in the shadows beyond the lights. The cameras were rolling into position and the producer was waving frantically from the other side of the set, indicating to Lauren that it was time to take her place.

  Focusing on the empty chair, concentrating on moving one foot in front of the other, Lauren walked across the floor and sat down beside Nick.

  The monitor on the edge of the set flickered silently, showing the scene at the police station. One of the other videographers had been sent there to cover Adam Duxbury’s arrest. Lauren clasped her hands in her lap, watching the silver-haired, affable face fill the screen for a moment as the camera zoomed in. Duxbury was smiling, his perfectly capped teeth and cherubic face gleaming like a campaign poster. He appeared relaxed, unworried, as if being charged with a hit-and-run death as well as assault was nothing but a minor misunderstanding.

  Nick shifted restlessly beside her, propping his ankle on his opposite knee and drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. Lauren angled her legs the other way, easing her body as far away as the chair would allow, doing her best to ignore him.

  It wasn’t any use. She was aware of every breath he took and every frown that crossed his face. She knew he didn’t like waiting. She also knew that he wished he could be the one who put the handcuffs on Duxbury. It was ironic, the way this story had worked out. Nick had been reduced to the role of an observer while she’d become a participant.

  Epstein didn’t let Duxbury linger in front of the camera for long. He guided him out of sight, leaving O’Hara to make an official statement. One of Duxbury’s lawyers spoke next, his demeanor more sober than his client’s but still projecting an aura of calm confidence.

  Lauren hoped the confidence was as phony as Duxbury’s smile. This time his lawyers wouldn’t be able to sweep away the charges. And once all the facts came out, Duxbury’s wealthy wife and influential in-laws might not want to fund his defense.