As she took the clipboard, Peyton’s heart swelled so much she thought it might burst. That was Nick—the rescuer. The rock. A rock with a rich vein of pure gold running through it. If anyone was lucky here, it was her, because Nick was part of her life.
“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, let’s go on a date. Will you go out with me, Nick Kolanowski?”
His mouth fell open, and he stared at her blankly.
Great timing. Seriously? She had to do this in a hospital waiting room in the midst of a medical crisis?
“Hang on,” she told him, feeling her face go red. “I’ll be right back.”
She ran the clipboard back to the nurse, then exchanged a quick word with Dr. Steed.
Then, all her medical responsibilities fulfilled, she hurried back to Nick. He was standing at the glassed-in wall that looked out over the parking lot. Doing what he’d promised—keeping an eye on Dale’s mom.
She came close to him and took his hand, tugged him around to face her. His scent enveloped her, dry grass from the baseball field, clean sweat, soap from his morning shower. He looked down at her with dark, attentive eyes.
And she knew that she loved him.
She tilted her face up and rose onto her tiptoes. He bent his head to meet her, and their lips joined in a perfect, electric kiss. The slight brush of their mouths was dazzling, like a window into a whole new world. All this time, it had been waiting for her, a bright and beautiful secret.
He put his hands on her back and pulled her closer, the gentle pressure promising even more delights in the future. A dizzy array of images cascaded through her head. Nick running, his long, strong legs eating up the trail. Nick stripping off his shirt. Nick looking down at her with quiet eyes. She’d barely scratched the surface of Nick’s depth and strength, she realized. And doing so would be the adventure of a lifetime.
Finally, she drew back, her lips still tingling. “I’m sorry about before, Nick. I was afraid to lose your friendship. You mean so much to me, I didn’t even realize how much.”
“You won’t lose me, Peyton. If you could, it would have happened by now. I actually did try, you know. The night of the reunion. I was thinking I’d make a clean break.”
She swallowed hard. Had he really come that close to walking away? Had she come that close to blowing it?
“But then I saw you again, and I knew it would never happen,” he said. “At least not until I told you how I felt. Jack was right about that. I never put my heart on the line. I was always too afraid of Jack’s shadow.”
“And now?”
“Screw Jack.” He grinned and hugged her tighter. Their bodies pressed closer together, the intimate contact making her head spin. “I think I can take him. Give me a chance and I’ll make you forget all about him.”
“Honestly?” She wrapped her arms around him. Every part of her body that touched him tingled and clamored for more. “I already have.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They couldn’t seem to stop kissing. And when he wasn’t kissing Peyton, Nick couldn’t seem to stop smiling. His students saw the truth right away. Their chatter made him laugh. “Mr. Kolanowski, do you have a new girlfriend?” … “He’s got an appointment with the love doctor, dude.” … “Think he’ll give us a break on that final now that he’s getting laid?”
Yeah, kids were a lot more straightforward these days.
Incredibly, there was no awkwardness in the shift from friends to lovers. Ever since that first kiss at the hospital, touching each other had come naturally. They still did all the things they used to do—binge-watch Netflix on the couch, climb the Fingers, make nachos at midnight—but they added nonstop kissing to the fun.
They’d been doing that for two weeks now, and they both knew exactly where this was going. But they were drawing it out to increase the anticipation.
“You realize that I’ve been thinking about this a lot longer than you have,” Nick grumbled one night as he adjusted his shorts over his painful bulge. They were at his house, where they’d made pancakes for dinner after earning them with a ten-mile evening run.
“Are you sure about that? Look at this.” She clambered over him to reach her purse. He seized the opportunity to smooth his hand across the curvy line of her lower back and ass. He could touch her for days and still want more. She drew out a composition notebook that had the words “Peyton’s Place—Keep Out” scrawled on the cover, then scrambled back to cuddle next to him.
“Is that your journal?”
“Yup. Circa seventh grade, I think. Listen to this.” She opened the notebook and read aloud. “The new boy at school is really cute but he hardly ever smiles. I gave him some of my Halloween candy and he just frowned at me. Now I’m kind of embarrassed because he probably thinks I like him. I should have just played it cool. How come I never know the right way to act until after? Ugh, so mortifying. I should just forget about boys for the rest of high school. Maybe in college I won’t be such a dork.”
She grinned at him. “See? You caught my eye with your brooding handsomeness back in seventh grade.”
He thought back to the moment when the bright-eyed sprite in front of him had offered those M&Ms. “I didn’t frown at you. Frowning was my natural state back then. I was transfixed. I couldn’t believe you were talking to me. I didn’t have a chance to change my expression. Also—don’t tell your journal this—but I got a spontaneous hard-on. That was the age, you know? It happened at the most awkward moments, especially around you. So have a little sympathy.”
She hooted with laughter. “Oh my God! If I’d only known. Seriously?”
“Need some proof?” He lifted his eyebrows significantly, glancing at his crotch. She bit her lip, then all of a sudden her hand was there, warm and arousing, touching him through his board shorts.
His erection swelled even harder than before.
A flush appeared on her cheeks and she ran her tongue across her lips. “So, remind me again, what are we waiting for?” She stroked the hard contours of his member. He closed his eyes and groaned softly.
“The hell if I know. Twenty-year reunion?”
She laughed. “Forget it. Let’s live for the here and now. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you never know what could happen.”
He knew what she meant—Dale. He’d come through the brain surgery just fine, but it had been such a wake-up call for everyone. He was still having trouble with his balance and didn’t know what would happen with his baseball career. On the bright side, Dale wasn’t letting this opportunity pass him by. With his shaved head and fascinating bandage—his mom had written Red Lightning on it—he attracted the attention of every girl at Everton. Apparently, it was the best thing to happen to his social life since he’d made the baseball team.
But it could have gone so differently—if not for Peyton.
Who was now stripping off her top.
His breath caught as she exposed her creamy skin and the rosy nipples topping the slight rise of her breasts. She might complain about her flat chest, but to him, she was perfect. At a hundred pounds heavier, she’d still be perfect to him. He loved her.
He dipped his head to her nipples and swirled his tongue around one, then the other—delicately, because he’d discovered how sensitive she was.
She clutched his head to her chest as she licked her. He savored every whisper and moan that escaped her lips. He could have continued lapping up her sweetness for hours, but she wriggled off his lap. While he watched, blood pounding into his cock, she undid her shorts and pushed them off her legs. Then she did the same with her pink panties, until she was naked.
All the breath left his lungs. Her slender body was all delicate curves dusted with gold. All the bits and pieces of her that he’d seen so far—while jogging or climbing or just hanging out—came together in a vision of sensual allure.
She beckoned to him with one finger. “Let’s see how fast you can run, Kolanowski,” she teased. “Race you to the bedroom.”
&nb
sp; She dashed away.
He wanted to follow, but he was too achingly aroused by the sight of her bare ass to move. Once she’d disappeared into the hallway, he jumped into action. He stripped off his own clothes as if he were going for the get-naked Olympics.
In his bedroom, he found her stretched out on his bed in a provocative pose that would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. He sat on the bed next to her and traced the line of her body, from her shoulder to her hip. When he reached the sweet dip of her waist, she trembled and her eyes drifted to half-mast.
“You know this is it, right? The rest of our lives, right here.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said softly. “I don’t want to wait another second.”
He reached for the nightstand drawer where he kept his condoms. After he sheathed himself, he came onto the bed, braced above her, his body shaking with desire. “You’re it for me, Peyton. You know that, right? My first love, and my last.”
She nodded, arching her body to meet his. But he held her off. He wanted to make sure she was ready; he wanted this to be perfect. He touched the sweet curls between her legs, finding heat and moisture and satin-soft welcome.
“You’re it for me, too, Nick. I’m a slow learner, but once I get it, I don’t forget.” As he stroked her folds, she tilted her head back in bliss. “Oh my God, that feels so good.”
“I wonder who will be the first to orgasm,” he said wickedly as she twisted under his deliberate touch. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it’s you.”
“I’m…definitely…okay with that.” She moaned and clutched at his shoulders. Under his fingers, the little nub of her pleasure swelled and throbbed. The sensation nearly made him come all by itself. He gritted his teeth to keep back the explosion. It had been building for so long. He could wait just a little longer.
“Now!” she urged him, wrapping one long leg around his hips. “Please, Nick. I want you inside me. Please.”
No arguments from him. He eased his thick length inside her, each millimeter sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. Deeper, then deeper, until they were joined completely, two pieces of the same puzzle. She bucked against him, so close. He reached between them and found that wild heat again.
He couldn’t move, wouldn’t move, until she’d tipped over the edge. Because it would take virtually nothing for him to climax, and all he wanted was Peyton shouting his name. He flattened his palm against her softness, pressed the hot little nub, and held his breath…and then she was rocking hard against him. Her body flexed into a glorious arch and a long, ecstatic cry rang through his bedroom. And she did shout his name. With joy and gratitude.
Her climax fired him up. He drew back then plunged inside again. The hot grasp of her body was everything. It pulled him right to the edge, where he balanced for a few long, heavenly strokes. He murmured sweet words to her, telling her everything she meant to him, everything he wanted to do to her. Stalling, trying to draw it out. But all his pent-up lust couldn’t be denied for long.
With a tight groan, he gave up the fight and launched into an all-consuming orgasm. For a hot, blinding moment, all he knew was Peyton’s breath in his ear, her channel gripping him, her legs and arms wrapped around him. Sweet, sweet heaven.
Peyton took her time coming back from that incredible experience. Putting yourself together after an orgasm like that might take a while. She had to remember where she was—Nick’s bedroom—how she’d gotten there—after several wrong turns over the course of fifteen years—and who she was with—Nick Kolanowski, her soul mate.
“I love you,” she stated loudly and clearly, after lifting herself onto one elbow. He was stretched out like a rag doll—a muscular, sweaty one. His eyes were closed, his dark eyelashes resting in half-moons on his cheekbones.
“I loved you first,” he murmured, lips curving in a lazy smile.
Laughing, she lay back beside him. Sleep began to steal over her—along with a feeling of complete and utter relaxation, as if her body knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.
“I guess we both win this time.”
“And for the rest of our lives.” He pulled her closer with one strong arm. She rested her cheek against his shoulder with a sigh. “I guess I should give credit where it’s due. If not for Jack Cooper, we might not be here right now.”
She gave his shoulder a teasing nip. Now that everything was right between her and Nick—now that she knew how much she loved him—she had to make something crystal clear, once and for all.
“I’m sorry. Jack who?”
Forgetting Jack Cooper:
The Big Idea Edition
by Elizabeth Bemis
“Hey, Mom. Ralph said you were looking for me?”
The cool blonde behind the granite desk glanced up, assessing me with her equally cool eyes, every hair perfectly in place. Her berry colored lipstick looked as if it had been just applied by a professional makeup artist, as did the rest of her cosmetics. Heather Miller’s mascara would never dare clump. And of course, there wasn’t a single sign of her most recent, extremely expensive “procedure” with the esteemed Dr. Stanley Greenup, plastic surgeon to the stars. Which would make that procedure a success, since one shouldn’t ever be able to tell that a woman has had “work” done.
She sighed when she saw me. There was no amount of work that could fix what I had going on, which suited me just fine.
I bumped my glasses up my nose, then tucked a lock of my curly hair behind my ear. Never mind that it sproinged back after a hot second. That tuck counted as an official attempt at grooming, as far as I was concerned.
My mother’s gaze rested on the offending curl for a long moment, then returned to the rest of my ensemble. “What are you wearing?” she asked.
I glanced down, frowning. Ok. I’ll admit the skirt wasn’t flattering. No one was going to take me for having the figure of a super-model, but I was perfectly within an acceptable weight, even by Hollywood standards. Still, the ruffling at the top of the black skirt, which looked insanely cute on the plastic mannequin sporting this very look when I walked into Macy’s last week, left me looking a little… chubby. I was probably too short-waisted for the blouse, or maybe I’d bought both items a size too big. I wasn’t really into form fitting clothes.
“Ruth. Really.”
“We can’t all be former Hollywood sex symbols,” I replied, more unkindly than I meant to.
It was a low blow. She hated the reminder most people still saw her as a blonde bubble-head, her signature acting role having been that of a vampy sexpot in a night-time soap opera during the eighties. Since then, she’d worked hard to become an Academy Award winning producer and studio owner and to leave her former persona behind. Unfortunately for her, the public’s memory was surprisingly long. Also, unfortunately for her, twenty-seven years of disappointing her tended to make me pricklier than I should let it.
Remorse slid through me, as usual a second too late for me to take the higher road. Then Mom cleared her throat.
“I just wanted to make sure you were ready for the meeting with Jack Cooper,” she said, her voice taking on a tone I’d learned to loathe. “This is an important film. We need to make sure we get as much publicity for this movie in advance as we can.”
So much for remorse. I left the high road in my rearview mirror and stomped on the gas.
Mom was always doing this to me. She’d been a typical stage mom during my childhood, trotting me through acting lessons, singing lessons, guitar and piano lessons, ballet, tap and contemporary dance. I think she believed that if she just cultivated the right talent, I’d become a natural performer. She finally gave up when, at age eleven, I sat down in the middle of the stage during a recital and refused to dance. Or, for that matter, do anything other than cry.
Unfortunately, while I won the battle of not becoming Heather Miller two-point-oh, from that point on, Mom kind of looked on me with disappointment and maybe a little bit of pity, the same way sh
e was doing right now. A sudden but familiar worry flashed: that the only reason I had this job was that she didn’t think I could make it in the real world without it.
Which was crazy. I was good at my job. I wasn’t confident about a lot in my life, but I was an excellent Director of Public Relations for the studio.
“Don’t worry,” I said, my words now more professionally clipped than a prize-winning poodle. “I’m completely aware of the importance of this film. When you promoted me last year, I really thought maybe you’d finally started to see that I knew what I was doing.”
“Ruthie,” she said, reaching a long elegant hand toward me.
This was how it always went. The cut and then the Band-Aid, but it wasn’t enough anymore—it hadn’t been enough for a while. I should leave the studio and go do something else and yet…I didn’t. I kept thinking that maybe after the next movie Mom would suddenly acknowledge my worth. To the studio, and to her. I sighed. Maybe this would be the project where I’d either find her approval, or where I’d just grow a backbone and be done with it.
I shrugged. “We’re meeting Jack Cooper in the big conference room in thirty minutes. See you there.”
I turned on my heel, then nearly tripped over my own feet, ruining my exit. I didn’t turn around to see if she’d noticed.
I already know she had.
She always noticed when I screwed up.
I marched toward the conference room, taking a moment to duck into my office for my laptop and found that Ralph Blitstein, mom’s third ex-husband, business partner, and the closest thing I’d ever had to a father, had made himself at home behind my desk.
“You ready for this, kiddo?”
On the tail end of the conversation with Mom, Ralph calling me “kiddo” was a serious tactical error. Not that I would have expected him to call me “Miss Miller,” even in front of a bigwig, but “Ruth” would have been a better choice.
The First Love Edition Page 7
