Edge of Forever

by Sherryl Woods

  Dana reached over and patted the woman’s hand. “Thanks for caring about me, Betsy, but I’m doing just fine. I love it here. All I want in my life right now is a little peace and quiet. Romance can wait.”

  Betsy sighed dramatically. “Okay, honey, if that’s what you want, but don’t put up too much of a fight. Nick Verone’s the best catch around these parts. You’d be crazy to let him get away.”

  Dana spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about Betsy’s admonition. She also spent entirely too much time thinking about Nick Verone. Even if her mind hadn’t betrayed her by dredging up provocative images, there was Tony to remind her.

  He bounded into the library right after school, wearing a huge grin. “Hey, Ms. Brantley, I hear you and me and Dad are going out on Saturday.”

  Dana winced as several other kids turned to listen. “Your dad invited me to come along to bingo. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Mind? Heck, no. You’re the greatest. All the kids think so. Right, guys?” There were enthusiastic nods from the trio gathered behind him. Tony studied her with an expression that was entirely too wise for a ten-year-old and lowered his voice to what he obviously considered to be a discreet whisper. It echoed through every nook and cranny in the library.

  “Say, do you want me to get lost on Saturday night?” He blushed furiously as his friends moved in closer so they wouldn’t miss a word. “I mean so you and Dad can be alone and all. I could spend the night over at Bobby’s. His mom wouldn’t mind.” Bobby nodded enthusiastically.

  If Dana had been the type, she might have blushed right along with Tony. Instead, she said with heartfelt conviction, “I most certainly do not want you to get lost. Your father planned for all of us to spend the evening together and that’s just the way I want it.”

  “But I know about grown-ups and stuff. I don’t want to get in the way. I think it’d be great, if you and Dad—”

  “Tony!”

  “Well, you know.”

  “What I know,” she said briskly, “is that you guys have an English assignment due this week. Have you picked out your books yet?”

  All of them except Tony said yes and drifted off. Tony’s round hazel eyes stared at her hopefully. “I thought maybe you’d help me.”

  Dana sighed. She knew now where Tony had gotten his manipulative skills. He was every bit as persuasive as his daddy. She pulled Robinson Crusoe, Huckleberry Finn and Treasure Island from the shelves. “Take a look at these.”

  She left him skimming through the books and went to help several other students who’d come in with assignments. The rest of the afternoon and evening flew by. At nine o’clock, when she was ready to lock up for the day, she discovered that Tony was in a back corner still hunched over Treasure Island.

  “Tony, you should have been home hours ago,” she said in dismay. “Your father must be worried sick.”

  He barely glanced up at her. “I called him and told him where I was. He said it was okay.”

  “When did you call him?”

  “After school.”

  Dana groaned. “Do you have any idea how late it is now?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I got to reading this. It’s pretty good.”

  “Then why don’t you check it out and take it home with you?”

  He regarded her sheepishly. “I’d rather read it here with you.”

  An unexpected warm feeling stole into her heart. She could understand how Tony felt. He’d probably gone home all too often to an empty house. He’d clearly been starved for mothering since his own mother had died, despite the attentions of a maternal grandmother he mentioned frequently and affectionately. Whatever women there were in Nick Verone’s life, they weren’t meeting Tony’s needs. A disturbing glimmer of satisfaction rippled through her at that thought, and she mentally stomped it right back into oblivion, where it belonged. The Verones’ lifestyle was none of her concern.

  Knowing that and acting on it, however, were two very different things. Subconsciously she’d felt herself slipping into a nurturing role with Tony from the day they’d met. Despite his boundless energy, there had been something a little lost and lonely about him. He reminded her of the way she’d felt for far too long, and instinctively she’d wanted to banish the sad expression from his eyes.

  For Dana, Tony had filled an aching emptiness that increasingly seemed to haunt her now that she knew it was never likely to go away. From the time she’d been a little girl, her room cluttered with dolls in every shape and size, she’d wanted children of her own. She’d had a golden life in which all her dreams seemed to be granted, and she’d expected that to be the easiest wish of all to fulfill.

  When she and Sam had married, they’d had their lives planned out: a year together to settle in, then a baby and two years after that another one. But too many things had changed in that first year, and ironically, she’d been the one to postpone getting pregnant, even though the decision had torn her apart.

  Now her marriage was over and she wasn’t counting on another one. She didn’t even want one. And it was getting late. She was nearing the age when a woman began to realize it was now or never for a baby. She’d forced herself to accept the fact that for her it would be never, but there were still days when she longed for that child to hold in her empty arms. Tony, so hungry for attention, had seemed to be a godsend, but she knew now that her instinctive nurturing had to stop. It wasn’t healthy for Tony and it assuredly wasn’t wise for her—not with Nick beginning to hint around that it might be a package deal.

  “Get your stuff together,” she said abruptly to Tony. “I’ll drive you home.”

  Hurt sprang up in his eyes at her sharp tone.

  “I can walk,” he protested with the automatic cockiness of a young boy anxious to prove himself grown up. Then his eyes lit up. “But if you drive me home,” he said slyly, “maybe you can come in and have some ice cream with dad and me.”

  “Ice cream is not a proper dinner,” Dana replied automatically, and then could have bitten her outspoken tongue.

  “Yeah, but Dad’s a pretty lousy cook. We go to Gracie’s a lot. When we don’t go there, we usually eat some yucky frozen dinners. I’d rather have ice cream.”

  Dana felt a stirring of something that felt disturbingly like sympathy as she pictured Nick and Tony existing on tasteless dinners that came in little metal trays. If these images kept up, she was going to have to buy army boots to stomp them out. The Verones’ diet was of absolutely no concern to her. Tony looked sturdy enough and Nick was certainly not suffering from a lack of vitamins. She’d seen his muscle tone for herself, when he’d been stretching around up on her roof.

  “So, how about it?” Tony said, interrupting her before she got lost in those intriguing images again. “Will you come in for ice cream?”

  “Not tonight.” Not in this lifetime, if she had a grain of sense in her head. She tried to ignore the disappointment that shadowed Tony’s face as he gave her directions to his house.

  It took less than ten minutes to drive across town to an area where the homes were separated by wide sweeps of lawn shaded by ancient oak trees tipped with new green leaves. The Verones’ two-story white frame house, with its black shutters, wraparound porch and upstairs widow’s walk, stood atop a low rise and faced out to sea. The place appeared to have been built in fits and starts, with additions jutting out haphazardly, yet looking very much a part of the whole. Lights blinked in the downstairs windows and an old-fashioned lamppost lit the driveway that wound along the side of the house. More than three times as large as Dana’s two-bedroom cottage, the place still had a warm, cozily inviting appeal.

  She was still absorbing that satisfying first impression when the side door opened and Nick appeared. Tony threw open the car door and jumped out. “Hey, Dad, Ms. Brantley brought me home. I asked her to come in for ice cream, but she won’t. You try.”

  Dana wondered if she could disappear under the dashboard. Before she could attempt that feat, Nick
was beside the car, an all-too-beguiling grin on his face. He leaned down and poked his head in the window. His hair was still damp from a recent shower and he smelled of soap. Dana tried not to sigh. She avoided his gaze altogether.

  “How about it, Ms. Brantley?” he said quietly, drawing her attention. “Will I have any better luck than Tony?”

  She caught the challenge glinting in his hazel eyes and looked away. “It’s late. I really should be getting home and Tony ought to have some dinner.”

  “You both ought to have dinner,” Nick corrected. “I’ll bet you haven’t eaten, either.”

  “I’ll grab something at home. Thanks, anyway.”

  She risked glancing up. Nick tried for a woebegone expression and failed miserably. The man would look self-confident trying to hold back an avalanche singlehandedly. “You wouldn’t sentence Tony to another one of my disastrous meals, would you?”

  Despite her best intentions, Dana found herself returning his mischievous grin. “Surely you’re not suggesting that I stay for dinner and that I fix it.”

  His eyes widened innocently. On Tony it would have been the look of an angel. On Nick it was pure seduction. “Of course not,” he denied. “I’ll just pop another TV dinner in the oven. We have plenty.”

  Suddenly she knew the battle was over before it had even begun. If Nick had been by himself, she would have refused; her defenses would have held. He would have been eating some prepackaged dinner, while she went home to canned vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. The idea of being alone with him made her heart race in a disconcerting way that would have made it easy to say no, even when the alternative wasn’t especially appealing.

  But with Tony around, she began to waver. He needed a nourishing meal. And while a ten-year-old, especially one who already had matchmaking skills, was hardly a qualified chaperon, he was better than nothing. She wouldn’t have to be there more than an hour or so. How much could happen between them in a single hour?

  “Do you have any real food in there?” she asked at last.

  “Frozen dinners are real food.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of chicken or beef or fish. This town has a river full of perch and crabs. Surely you occasionally go out and catch some of them.”

  “Of course I do. Then we eat them. I think there might be some chicken in the freezer, though.”

  “And vegetables?”

  “Sure.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “Frozen.”

  Dana shook her head. “Men!”

  Telling herself it might be nice to have a friend in town, then telling herself she was an idiot for thinking that’s all it would be with a man like Nick, she reluctantly turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. “Guide me to your refrigerator. We’ll consider this payment for your first day’s labor on my roof.”

  “So Billy didn’t show up?” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets.

  She scowled at him. “No.”

  “I told—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

  “Right,” he said agreeably, but his grin was very smug as he turned away to lead her up the driveway.

  If she’d thought for one minute that she’d be able to relax in Nick’s presence, she was wrong. Her nerves were stretched taut simply by walking beside him to the house. He didn’t put a hand on her, not even a casual touch at her elbow to guide her. But every inch of her was vibrantly aware of him just the same and every inch screamed that this attempt at casual friendship was a mistake. At the threshold, she had to fight against a momentary panic, a desire to turn and flee, but then Tony was calling out to her and curiosity won out over fear. She told herself she simply wanted to see if this graceful old house was as charming on the inside as it was outside.

  In some ways the house itself had surprised her. She would have expected a builder to want something modern, something that would make a statement about his professional capabilities. Instead, Nick had chosen tradition and history. It raised him a notch in her estimation.

  They went through the kitchen, which was as modern and large as anyone could possibly want. She regarded it enviously and thought of her own cantankerous appliances. A built-in breakfast nook was surrounded by panes of beveled glass and situated to catch the morning sun. This room was made for more than cooking and eating. It was a place for sharing the day’s events, for making plans and shaping dreams, for watching the change of seasons. It was exactly the sort of kitchen she would have designed if she and Sam had ever gotten around to building a house.

  Enough of that, she told herself sharply. She dropped her purse on the gleaming countertop and headed straight for the refrigerator. Nick stepped in front of her so quickly she almost stumbled straight into his arms. She pulled back abruptly to avoid the contact.

  “Hey, don’t you want the grand tour first?” Nick said. “I really didn’t invite you in just to feed us. Relax for a while and let me show you around.”

  Once more, with her heart thumping crazily in her chest, Dana prayed for a quick return of her common sense. She knew she was feeling pressure where there was none, but suddenly she didn’t want to see the rest of the house. She didn’t want to find that the living room was as perfect as the one she’d dreamed about for years or that the bedrooms were bright and airy like something straight out of a decorating magazine. She didn’t want to be here at all. Nick was too overwhelming, too charming, and there was an appreciative spark in his eyes that terrified her more with every instant she spent in his company.

  She took a deep, slow breath and reminded herself that leaving now was impossible without seeming both foolish and ungracious. She took another calming breath and tried to remind herself that she was in control, that nothing would happen unless she wanted it to, certainly not with Tony in the house. Unfortunately, Tony seemed to have vanished the minute they came through the door. If only he’d join them, she might feel more at ease.

  “Let me see what treasures are locked in your freezer first,” she finally said. “Then while dinner cooks, you can show me around.”

  It was a logical suggestion, one that didn’t hint of her absurd nervousness, and Nick gave in easily. “How about a drink, then?”

  Once again, Dana felt a familiar knot form in her stomach. “Nothing for me, thanks.” Her voice was tight.

  “Not even iced tea or a soda?”

  Illogical relief, exaggerated far beyond the offer’s significance, washed over her. “Iced tea would be great.”

  They reached the refrigerator at the same instant and Dana was trapped between Nick and the door. The intimate, yet innocent press of his solid, very male body against hers set off a wild trembling. His heat and that alluring scent of soap and man surrounded her. The surge of her blood roared in her ears. She clenched her fists and fought to remain absolutely still, to not let the unwarranted panic show in her eyes. Nick allowed the contact to last no more than a few seconds, though it seemed an eternity. Then he stepped aside with an easy grin.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Dana shrugged. “No problem.”

  But there was a problem. Nick had seen it in Dana’s eyes, though she’d looked away to avoid his penetrating gaze. He’d felt the shiver that rippled through her, noted her startled gasp and the way she protectively lifted her arms before she dropped them back to her sides with conscious deliberation. He was experienced enough to know that this was not the reaction of a woman who desired a man but who was startled by the unexpectedness of the feeling. Dana had actually seemed afraid of him, just as she had on Saturday, when she’d been brandishing those hedge clippers. The possibility that he frightened her astonished and worried him. He was not used to being considered a threat, not to his employees, not to his son and certainly not to a woman.

  He’d been raised to treat everyone with respect and dignity, but women were in a class by themselves. His mother, God rest her, had been a gentle soul with a core of iron and more love and compassion than any human b
eing he’d ever met. She’d expected to be treated like a lady by both her husband and her sons and thought there was no reason other women shouldn’t deserve the same.

  “Women aren’t playthings,” she’d told Nick sternly the first time she’d caught him kissing a girl down by the river. He’d been fourteen at the time and very much interested in experimentation. Nancy Ann had the reputation of being more than willing. He never knew for sure if his mother had heard the gossip about Nancy Ann, but she’d looked him straight in the eye at the dinner table that night and said, “I don’t care who they are or how experienced they claim to be, you show them the same respect you’d expect for yourself. Nobody deserves to be used.”

  Though his brothers had grinned, he’d squirmed uncomfortably under her disapproving gaze. He’d never once forgotten that lesson, not even in the past three years since Ginny had died and more than a few women had indicated their willingness to share his bed and his life. Dana’s nervous response bothered him all the more, because he knew it was so thoroughly unjustified.

  But she didn’t know that, he reminded himself. Experience had apparently taught her another lesson about men, a bitter, lasting lesson. He felt an unreasoning surge of anger against the person who had hurt her.

  Dana was already poking around in the freezer as if the incident had never taken place. Since she’d apparently decided to let the matter rest, he figured he should, as well. For now. In time, his actions would teach her she had nothing to fear from him.

  Delighted to have such attractive company for a change, he leaned back against the counter, crossed his legs at the ankles and watched her as she picked up packages, wrinkled her nose and tossed them back. Finally she emerged triumphant, her cheeks flushed from the chilly air in the freezer.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but do you have any idea how long this chicken has been in there?”

  Nick reached out, took the package and brushed at the frost. “Looks to me like it’s dated February something.”

  “Of what year?”

  “It’s frozen. Does it matter?”