by Robin Kaye
Nick kissed her neck. “I want you so bad. I’ve dreamed of being with you every night.” His hands moved upward, over her rib cage. “I’d wake up alone and. . .”
His hold on her tightened as quickly as the mood changed. The desperation in his voice shocked her as much as it mirrored hers.
“I know. Me, too. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you left.”
Nick took her face in his hands and placed his forehead against hers, his eyes shut tightly. “You’re not keeping anything from me? You’re really okay? Mike didn’t say anything—”
“Nick, I told you everything. I’m fine. Promise.” She kissed him—a kiss of understanding, forgiveness, love, hope, and relief. It blossomed from comforting to exciting, needy, and giving, to tender and demanding. There was no more pretending, no more doubting, no more hiding from each other or themselves.
Rosalie touched him with shaking hands. She was nervous. For the first time, she was unprotected, armed with only love and trust. She realized how a first tandem skydiving jump must feel—falling through the sky tied to one person and a parachute, with no control of either.
It was the scariest thing she’d ever done—and the most exciting. Every touch was magnified, every breath deeper, every look more intense, more meaningful. Their clothes shed like layers of armor until they lay naked on the bed, bursting with urgency and heat. Mutual desire was a palpable thing, heady and strong. The scent of Nick, the feel of him beneath her and within her, was familiar and new at the same time.
Nick held her in a vise like grip, as if he was afraid she’d disappear. His eyes were closed tight, concentration evident. She was on intensity overload. She needed him with her. Leaning forward, she kissed his mouth and cheeks. When he opened his eyes, tears appeared. She couldn’t tell whose they were. Maybe both of theirs.
Their gazes locked, and the connection was complete—mind, spirit, body, and soul. Her climax raged through her like a wildfire, white-hot and all consuming. Nick groaned her name. His orgasm went on and on, fueling, feeding, and increasing hers.
She collapsed. She knew she should move, but she hadn’t the energy to do anything but breathe and wonder at the enormity of it all.
Making love, true love, for the first time must be akin to a blind person seeing for the first time. Only one aspect of the person’s life would change, but that change would color every other facet of his being forever. And no matter how long his vision lasted, he’d always have the memory of the first sight, the first light, the first person he laid eyes on. Nick would always be her first.
When they’d returned to Rosalie’s apartment, her answering machine had been blinking. Rosalie had refused to listen to the messages. She’d said she wanted one day where no one could intrude on them. Since they weren’t at cross-purposes, Nick hadn’t argued with her.
The next morning, Nick held Rosalie while she slept. He couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. Her left hand lay on his chest, her engagement ring catching the morning sun shining through her bedroom window. He’d wanted to take Dave to his house and stay there, but Rosalie had refused. She’d said Dave would wreak havoc and destroy everything. Like Nick actually cared about any of that stuff. But he cared enough about Rosalie to drop the subject when he saw it upset her. He’d woken up every half hour to make sure she was there. And yet, he’d still slept better than he had since he’d left.
Nick slid out from beneath Rosalie. He’d spent a lot of time forcing the issue of announcing their engagement to her family. Rosalie thought they should wait until after her sister’s wedding. What Annabelle’s wedding to that creep Johnny, the one who’d put his hands on Rosalie, had to do with them, Nick wasn’t sure. The only thing Nick was sure of was that Johnny’s hands would be broken if he ever looked sideways at Rosalie again.
Nick watched Rosalie dress for dinner at her parents’ house. He bit his tongue when he saw her take off her engagement ring and put it in her jewelry box. He took it out when she was in the bathroom and slipped the box into his jacket pocket. They were engaged, so in his mind, wherever she went, so did his ring. She’d want to put it on after they announced it. At least, he hoped she would. Damn. Nick knew she was dreading the Ronaldi family dinner he’d invited himself to. She wasn’t feeling well—he’d only allowed her one cup of coffee instead of the usual pot—and he knew how scary she was without her daily overdose of caffeine. She was not in the best frame of mind.
It wasn’t until he was standing beside her outside the opened front door of the Ronaldi house, watching all hell break loose, that Nick questioned the wisdom of escorting his fiancée to her family’s home without invitation.
Rosalie hadn’t even finished crossing the threshold before trouble began. Everyone was in the living room. Mr. Ronaldi was sitting on the Barcalounger with his newspaper; Rich was standing at the top of the steps; and an older woman Nick thought must be Rosalie’s Aunt Rose stood next to a younger, anorexic version of Rosalie, who Nick was pretty sure was Annabelle.
Mrs. Ronaldi made the first move before Rosalie even got her jacket off. “Talk some sense into your sister, Rosalie. Tell her she can’t cancel the wedding three weeks before the ceremony.”
Annabelle shook her fist at her mother. “Ma, Johnny was screwing Wanda Rigoletto at the funeral home beside a corpse. How can I marry him now?”
Mrs. Ronaldi waved her hand as if swatting a fly. “Men will be men. You don’t cancel a wedding because he had one last fling.”
Nick slid his arm around Rosalie. It looked as if she was about to blow. She shook with anger.
“Ma, what are you? Crazy? You don’t expect Annabelle to still marry him, do you? Johnny De Palma is a disgusting pig. Why she wanted to marry him in the first place is a mystery. I think Annabelle has finally come to her senses.” Rosalie shook her head with disgust. “If Annabelle was the one screwing around, you’d call her a puttana. When Johnny does it, you say men will be men? You know, Ma, I don’t get you. If he’s cheating now, he’ll cheat later. But I guess that’s okay. It doesn’t matter if we marry the scum of the earth, as long as we’re married and have babies. Right, Ma?”
Mrs. Ronaldi crossed herself. “You! What do you know? You work, work, work. You’re so busy in your big office, you don’t see what’s important. You have no husband, no family. You’ll die old and alone. If I rely on you, I’ll go to my grave with no grandchildren.”
Nick cleared his throat and pulled Rosalie closer. He wasn’t sure if he was being supportive or proactive. “Mrs. Ronaldi.”
She ground her teeth together, trying not to look as if she minded being interrupted. She wasn’t much of an actor.
Nick threw in one of his dimpled grins. No woman had ever been able to resist him when he grinned—no woman except Rosalie. “I don’t think you have anything to worry ab—”
Mrs. Ronaldi cut him off. “Who are you to tell me anything? What do you know?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.” He held his hand out toward her. “I’m Dominick Romeo. Since we’re practically family, you can call me Nick.”
Annabelle pointed to Nick. “I thought you were Nick, the rebound guy.”
“No, I’m Nick, the fiancé guy.”
A chorus of gasps followed Nick’s announcement. Rosalie said nothing, but the hard elbow in his ribs conveyed her displeasure.
“What in the hell is this world coming to?” Annabelle screamed. “Rosalie lands Dominick Romeo, the car baron, and I can’t even keep a freaking mortician? I’m the pretty one! I’m the one who everyone wants to be seen with!” Annabelle stomped her feet, turned, and ran from the room, crying.
Mrs. Ronaldi sputtered, “The animal? The animal is Dominick Romeo? My Rosalie is marrying Dominick Romeo?” She crossed herself, beat her breast, and said a prayer under her breath. Nick didn’t know if she prayed for protection, or if she said a prayer of thanks.
Rosalie wanted to kill Nick. But she couldn’t complain about the rea
ction. She should have sold tickets, or at the very least, videotaped it.
Rich smiled, nodding his approval. Annabelle had shown her true colors—as expected. Aunt Rose ran to Rosalie and kissed both of her cheeks. “Bene, bene, porta fortuna.” Then she grabbed Nick, held his face in her hands, and looked him over. “So, you not so stupid after all, eh?” She kissed him on both cheeks and gave him a little smack. “No more acting stupid. We already have enough of that in this familia. Capisce?”
Nick winked at Aunt Rose. “Capisce.” He took both her hands in his and kissed each one. “Grazi, tante, grazi.”
Rosalie watched as Aunt Rose stood speechless, a first in Rosalie’s experience. The old girl blushed. Madònne, she’d seen everything now.
Rich kissed Rosalie on both cheeks, “Congratulations, Ro. I’m so happy for you. Nick’s a great guy.”
“Thanks, Richie.”
He and Nick did the whole guy hug thing, clapping each other on the back and generally acting macho.
It was good to see Nick and Rich together. They’d obviously come to terms after the fistfight and were acting like old friends, which she guessed they were.
Papa hefted himself out of his chair, stood beside Mama, and cleared his throat. “You happy, Rosalie?”
“Yeah, Pop, I’m very happy.”
Pop moved forward and shook Nick’s hand. “Welcome to the family. Rich, hurry down to the corner, buy champagne. We will celebrate.”
Rich grabbed his coat and ran out. Mama and Aunt Rose scurried off to get champagne glasses.
Nick pulled Rosalie closer to his side, nuzzled her ear, and whispered, “So, are you still angry I spilled the beans?”
“Yes, no . . . I don’t know. I thought Mama was going to have a coronary.”
“Your sister’s a piece of work. And for the record, you’re the pretty one.”
“Okay, you’re forgiven. You don’t need to suck up any more.”
“Oh, yeah, I do.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Nick pulled the Tiffany box from his pocket, opened it, and slipped her engagement ring back onto her finger.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Rosalie answered the door, and Gina shot forward and hugged her. “Rosalie, Nick, congratulations! I’m so happy for you.”
Nick hugged her. “Thanks, Gina. How’ve you been?”
“Better than you.”
“Not now, you’re not. It’s good to see you again.”
Rosalie scoffed. “Hold on, what’s all this buddy, buddy stuff?”
Nick winked at Gina. “We’ve met before. I knew you’d want Gina here to celebrate with everyone, so I gave her a call.”
Rosalie raised an eyebrow. There was something they weren’t telling her—not that she cared too much. It was sweet of Nick to ask Gina to join them. Lord knew, she’d been nervous enough about bringing Nick to meet the parents. Why Nick had insisted on making the big announcement now was beyond her.
“Ma, Gina’s here. We’re going to need another plate at the table,” Rosalie called to the kitchen.
The front door opened and hit Gina in the back. Rich stuck his head in. “What the . . . Gina?”
Gina’s smile disappeared. “Rich. What are you doing here? I thought you’d flown back to Maine or New Hampshire or wherever.”
Rich swallowed hard. “No, I, um . . . changed my flight. I’m taking a few days to settle a couple of things in the city.”
“Here.” Gina handed Nick the bottle of champagne she’d brought. “I can’t stay. I wanted to stop by to say how happy I am for both of you. Rosalie, I’ll see you in the office Monday. ’Bye.”
She blew by Rich and out the door. Rich shoved the champagne he’d bought into Rosalie’s arms and took off after Gina.
Nick smiled. “Do you think we’d get away with it if we took off, too?”
“Not a chance. Now that they’ve heard the news, they’re going to want details. I told you we should have waited.”
Nick kissed her, and the bottles clinked together. “I’ve waited long enough. No more. I want to get married right away.”
“Hold on. It takes a long time to plan a wedding, unless you want to run to Vegas. But if we did that, we’d have a very short marriage. Mama will kill both of us if we don’t get married in the church.”
“So, we’ll get married in the church. Soon.”
“Nick, you have to reserve a date, then there’s a reception hall, catering, flowers, a dress. There’s a lot more to it than walking down an aisle and saying ‘I do.’”
“Annabelle’s not getting married. She had a date reserved with the church, reception hall, everything, right?”
“Of course, but—”
“So, we’ll have a wedding instead. It’s perfect. You can keep what she has or change it to suit you. Lois will help plan everything. So, when are we getting married?”
“Two weeks from Saturday?”
“That long, huh? Well, I guess I’ll have to wait. See? You didn’t think I could compromise.”
“You’re crazy. I can’t put together a wedding in less than three weeks—”
“No, but Lois can. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it? Don’t worry about it? Are you crazy?”
“Not crazy, determined. And you know me; I always get what I want.”
Rosalie, not being much for weddings in the first place, had no problem handing over the reins to her mother and Aunt Rose along with Nick’s mother and grandmother. All Rosalie and Lois were responsible for was picking out the wedding gown and bridesmaids’ dresses. Rosalie figured the fact she had agreed to get married in the first place would have stopped her mother from complaining, but of course, she was wrong. Her mother was against her first choice, but Lois and Nick’s mother and grandmother were able to calm her down. At any rate, Rosalie was happy that the women in both families got along well, which allowed her to concentrate on brokering the deal between Premier and Romeo’s.
In the end, Nick paid a pretty penny for the dealership of his dreams, but no more than Premier was worth. He seemed to get a kick out of hard-nosed negotiations with his fiancée—not that Rosalie didn’t enjoy arguing for money and then going home and having make-up sex every night, either.
Nineteen days, two hours, and thirty-six minutes later, not that she was counting, Rosalie walked down the white rose petal-scattered aisle of St. Joseph’s on her father’s arm. Nick looked shocked. She didn’t know why. She’d told him she wasn’t wearing white. She refused to spend her wedding day looking like the Michelin Man. She guessed he hadn’t expected scarlet. What could she say? Scarlet was her color. With her dark hair and olive complexion, well, she looked amazing. At least she’d allowed her mother to talk her into a traditional bouquet of white roses and lilies, the only traditional thing about her ensemble. She could see Nick loved her dress. The mermaid cut hugged her curves. Subtle beading made the gown shimmer without looking too fussy. She still hadn’t gained back all the weight she’d lost during the month they were apart, and she couldn’t eat. For the first time in her life, she looked slim.
A smile spread across Nick’s face—that special smile he saved for her, the one that made her breath catch.
Nick took her hand, and all her nerves disappeared. After promising to honor, cherish, and supply her with a lifetime of love and chocolate, Nick got what he wanted.
But then, so did she.
The End
Acknowledgments
MY LOVE AND ETERNAL GRATITUDE GO OUT TO MY HUSBAND and partner in crime, Stephen, and to my children—my cohorts and the best things I’ve ever had a hand in creating: Tony, Anna, and Isabelle.
My parents, Richard Williams and Angela Feiler, and my stepfather, George Feiler, for their support and for teaching me that no matter how hard life gets, there’s always something to laugh about.
My dear friend Kevin Dibley who gave me much needed information on dating in the twenty-first century an
d allowed me to explore the male psyche.
My favorite doctor, Dr. Michael Tolino, for helping me with all things medical and for not getting angry with me when I forget to tell him the person in need of medical assistance isn’t a real person, but a character in my book.
My critique group—The Goddesses—Gail Reinhart, Peggy Parsons, and Kay Parker.
The members of The Valley Forge Romance Writers—never have I met a more helpful, caring, and supportive group of women. I thank you all.
My agent, Kevan Lyon, for all she does.
And lastly, to my editor and friend, Deb Werksman— you’re the best.
Copyright © 2009 by Robin Kaye
Cover and internal design © 2009 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover photo © Dreamstime.com/ Pomortzeff
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Friends are my favorite characters to write. They’re the people who tell it like it is, hold your feet to the fire, love you, laugh and cry with you, and share your joys and sorrow as well as their own.
