Truly Madly Yours

by Rachel Gibson

  “Planning a date with your old boyfriend?”

  She knew the voice even before she turned around. She lowered the bottle and looked up at the only man who’d caused her more misery than all her old boyfriends combined. “Jealous?” But unlike Tommy, she would never forget what had happened one hot August night with Nick Allegrezza.

  “Pea green.”

  “Did you come over here to fight with me? Because I don’t want to fight. Like you said the other day, we’re both going to be in your brother’s wedding. Maybe we should try to get along. Be more friendly.”

  A slow sensuous smile curved his lips. “How friendly?”

  “Friends. Just friends,” she said although she doubted it would ever happen. But maybe they could quit taking swipes at each other. Especially since she always seemed to lose.

  “Buddies?”

  That might be pushing it. “Okay.”

  “Pals?”

  “Sure.”

  He shook his head. “It’ll never happen.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he plucked the bottle from her hand and set it on the table. The singer of the small blues band dug into a slow sweet rendering of “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” as Nick dragged her onto the crowded dance floor. He pulled her against him, then swayed his hips to the sensuous soul music. She was jostled from behind as she tried to put a little distance between her breasts and his chest, but his big hands on her back kept her just where he wanted her. She had no choice but to lightly place her palms on his broad shoulders. The ends of his hair brushed her knuckles like the whisper of cool silk, and the heat from his hot, hard body seeped through layers of denim and flannel and sweater to warm her skin. Unlike Tommy, rhythm poured through Nick, easy and natural, like a languid stream in no great hurry to get anywhere. “You could’ve asked me to dance,” she said, speaking past the heavy thud of her heart.

  “You’re right. I could have.”

  “This is the nineties. Most men have abandoned the cave.” The scent of him filled her head with the smell of clean cotton and warm man.

  “Most men like your old boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tommy thinks with his dick.”

  “So do you.”

  “There you go again,” he paused and his voice lowered a fraction, “thinking you know so much about me.”

  Her stomach knotted in a tangle of conflicting emotion. Anger and desire, breathless anticipation, and gut-level fear. Tommy Markham, her first love, hadn’t created such chaos within her. Why Nick? He’d been nasty to her more times than he’d been nice. They had a past she’d thought she’d buried. “Everyone in town knows you spend time with quite a few women.”

  He pulled back far enough to look down at her. Light from the stage sliced across the left half of his handsome face. “Even if that were true, there’s a difference. I’m not married.”

  “Married or not, indiscriminate sex is still disgusting.”

  “Is that what you told your boyfriend?”

  “My relationship with Tommy is none of your business.”

  “Relationship? Are you going to meet him later for some of that indiscriminate sex you find so disgusting?” His hands moved up her back to the base of her skull. “Did he get you hot?” He plowed his fingers through her hair from beneath, holding her head in his palms. His eyes were as hard as granite.

  She pushed at his shoulders, but he tightened his grasp, pressing his strong fingers into her scalp. He wasn’t hurting her, but he wasn’t letting her go either. “You’re sick.”

  He lowered his face and asked against her lips, “Does he turn you on?”

  She sucked in her breath.

  “Make you ache?”

  Delaney’s heart pounded in her chest and she couldn’t answer. He lightly brushed his mouth over hers and slid the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips. A current of pleasure swept across her breasts. Her body’s immediate reaction surprised and alarmed her. Nick was the last man for whom she wanted to feel such aching desire. Their past was too ugly. She meant to push him away, but he turned up the heat, and the kiss turned carnal. His tongue entered her mouth for a long hot assault, devouring her, consuming her resistance, and creating a delicious suction with his lips.

  She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate him even as she kissed him back. Even as her tongue encouraged him. Even as she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him as the only steady thing in a dizzy chaotic world. His lips were warm. Firm. Demanding she kiss him back with the same fiery passion.

  He slid his big hands down her sides, then slipped them beneath the loose edge of her sweater. She felt his fingers lightly caress the small of her back, the stroke of each across her skin. Then his warm callused palms slipped to her waist, and his thumbs skimmed her abdomen, fanning lightly over her heated flesh. The knot in her stomach tightened even more and the sensation of pinpricks tingled her chest, drawing her nipples taut as if he’d touched her there. He made her forget she stood on a crowded dance floor. He made her forget everything. Her hands drifted to the sides of his neck, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Then the kiss changed, became almost gentle, and he softly pressed his thumbs into her navel. He slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of her jeans and pulled her tight against the long hard bulge just to the right of his button fly.

  Her own choked moan brought an instant of sanity, and she tore her mouth from his. She gasped for breath, ashamed and appalled at her body’s uncontrolled reaction. He’d done this to her before, only that time she hadn’t stopped him.

  She pushed at him and his hands fell to his sides. When she finally looked into his face, his gaze was hooded and watchful. Then his jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed.

  “You shouldn’t have come back. You should have stayed gone,” he said, then he turned and forced his way through the throng of people.

  Stunned by her behavior and his and the desire still surging through her veins, Delaney was unable to move for several long moments. Blues continued to pump from the big speaker, and the couples around her swayed to the beat as if nothing disturbing had just happened. Only Delaney knew that it had. It wasn’t until the music stopped that she stumbled back to her table. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should have stayed gone, but she’d sold her soul for money. A lot of money, and she couldn’t leave now.

  Delaney shoved her arms into her jacket and made her way to the front entrance. There was only one way she was going to survive the next seven months. Revert back to plan A and avoid Nick as much as possible. With her head down, she stepped out into the brisk air. Her breath hung in front of her face as she zipped her coat.

  The unmistakable rumble of Nick’s Harley shook the night, and Delaney glanced over her shoulder. He stood with the big bike between his widespread legs, his back to her, and a worn black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders. He held his hand out and one of the Howell twins jumped on behind, bonding her perfect self to his butt like super glue.

  Delaney’s head snapped back around and she shoved her hands in her pockets for the short walk home. Nick had the morals of a tomcat. He always had, but why he’d kissed her when he had one of the Howell girls with him was beyond Delaney’s understanding. In fact, why he’d kiss her at all was past comprehension. He didn’t like her. That much was clear.

  Of course, he hadn’t liked her ten years ago, either. He’d used her to get back at Henry, but Henry was dead now, and getting involved with her could mean he’d lose the bequest Henry had given him. Nick was many things, all of them complicated, but he wasn’t stupid.

  She took a left at the alleyway and walked toward the stairs leading to her apartment. It didn’t make sense, but many things Nick did had never made any sense to her.

  In any other city, Delaney might have been afraid to walk the streets after dark, but not in Truly. Occasionally one of the summer homes at the north side of the lake got broken into. But nothing really bad ever happened here. Pe
ople didn’t lock their cars, and more often than not, didn’t bother to lock their homes, either.

  Delaney had lived in too many big cities to leave without locking her apartment. Once she’d climbed the stairs and was inside, she secured the door behind her and tossed the keys on the glass and black coffee table. While she unlaced her boots, she thought about Nick and her crazy reaction to him. For a few unguarded moments, she’d wanted him.

  And he’d wanted her, too. She’d felt it in the way he touched her and in the hard bulge of his erection.

  The boot in Delaney’s hand hit the floor, and she frowned into the darkness. On a crowded dance floor, she’d kissed him like he was a fresh batch of sin and she was dying for a taste. He’d made her burn, and she’d wanted him like she hadn’t wanted any other man in a long time. Like she’d wanted him once before. Like no one existed beyond him and nothing else mattered. Nick was the only man she’d ever known who could make her forget everything. There was something about him that went straight to her head. He’d gotten to her tonight, just as he had the night before she’d left Truly ten years ago.

  She didn’t like to think about what had happened, but she was exhausted and her mind did an unstoppable turnback to the memories she’d always tried to forget, but never could.

  The summer after high school graduation had started out bad, then proceeded to go to hell. She’d just turned eighteen and figured it was finally time for her to have a say in her life. She didn’t want to attend college right away. She wanted to take a year off to decide what she really wanted to do, but Henry had already preregistered her at the University of Idaho, where he’d been a member of the Alumni Hall of Fame. He’d chosen her classes and signed her up for a full load of freshman courses.

  At the end of June she got up the nerve to talk to Henry about a compromise. She would go part-time to Boise State University where Lisa was going, and she wanted to take classes she thought sounded fun.

  He said no. End of subject.

  With the August registration date breathing down her neck, she approached Henry again in July.

  “Don’t be silly. I know what’s best for you,” he said. “Your mother and I have discussed this, Delaney. Your plans for your future are aimless. You’re obviously much too young to know what you want.”

  But she’d known. She’d known for a long time, and somehow she’d always thought that on her eighteenth birthday she would get it. For some mixed-up reason, she’d thought that with her freedom to vote would come real freedom. But when her February birthday had passed without the slightest change in her life, she figured graduation from high school had to mean liberation from Henry’s control. She would get the freedom to break out and be Delaney. The freedom to be wild and crazy if she wanted to. To take silly college classes. To wear holey jeans or too much makeup. To wear the clothes she wanted. To look like a preppie, a bum, or a whore.

  She didn’t get those freedoms. In August Henry and her mother drove her four hours north to the University of Idaho in the town of Moscow, Idaho, and she registered for the fall semester. On the way back home, Henry kept saying, “trust me to know what’s best for you.” And “Someday you’ll thank me. When you get your business degree, you’ll help run my companies.” Her mother accused her of being “spoiled and immature.”

  The next night, Delaney snuck out of her bedroom window for the first and last time of her life. She could have asked Henry to use his car, and he probably would have let her, but she didn’t want to ask him for anything. She didn’t want to tell her parents where she was going, who she was going to be with, or what time she’d be home. She didn’t have a plan, just a vague idea of doing something she’d never done before. Something other eighteen year olds did. Something reckless and exciting.

  She curled her straight blond hair on big fat rollers and put on a pink sundress that buttoned up the front. The dress reached just above the knee and was the most daring thing she owned. The straps were thin and she didn’t wear a bra. She thought she appeared older than her age, not that it mattered. She was the mayor’s daughter and everyone knew how old she was anyway. She walked all the way into town in pair of huarache sandals and carrying a white cardigan. It was a warm Saturday night, and there had to be something going on. Something she’d always been afraid to do for fear of getting caught and disappointing Henry.

  She found that something outside the Hollywood Market on Fifth Street where she stopped to call Lisa from a pay phone. She stood beneath a weak light screwed into the front of the brick building. “Come on,” she pleaded into the receiver she held to her ear. “Meet me.”

  “I told you, I feel like my head is going to explode,” Lisa said, sounding pathetic with a bad summer cold.

  Delaney stared at the metal numbers on the face of the phone and frowned. How could she rebel by herself? “Baby.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Lisa defended herself. “I’m sick.”

  She sighed and glanced up, her attention drawn to the two boys moving across the parking lot toward her. “Oh, my God.” She hung her sweater over one arm and cupped her hand around the receiver. “The Finley boys are walking toward me.” There were only two other brothers who had worse reputations than Scooter and Wes Finley. The Finleys were eighteen and twenty and had just graduated high school.

  “Don’t make eye contact,” Lisa had warned, then lapsed into a coughing fit.

  “Hey there, Delaney Shaw,” Scooter drawled and leaned one shoulder against the building beside her. “What are you doing out by yourself?”

  She glanced into his pale blue eyes. “Looking for fun.”

  “Huh huh,” he laughed. “Guess you found it.”

  Delaney had graduated from Lincoln High with the Finleys and found them slightly amusing and somewhat dense. They’d kept the school year interesting with false fire alarms or pulling down their pants to show their very white butts. The Finleys were big on mooning. “What did you have in mind, Scooter?”

  “Delaney-Delaney-” Lisa called into the receiver. “Run. Run as, fast as you can away from the Finleys.”

  “Drink a little brew,” Wes answered for his brother. “Find a party.”

  Drinking “brew” with the Finleys was certainly something she’d never done before. “I gotta go,” she said to Lisa.

  “Delaney-”

  “If they find my body floating in the lake, tell the police I was last seen with the Finleys.” As she hung up the receiver, an old convertible Mustang with rust spots and rustier pipes pulled into the parking lot, the twin beams spotlighting Delaney and her new friends. The lights and engine died, the door swung open, and out stepped six feet, two inches of bad attitude. Nick Allegrezza had tucked an “Eat the Worm” T-shirt into a pair of old jeans. He looked Scooter and Wes over, then turned his gaze on Delaney. In the past three years, Delaney had seen little of Nick. He spent most of his time in Boise where he worked and attended the university. But he hadn’t changed that much. His hair was still shiny black, cut short at his ears and the back of his neck. He was still breathtaking.

  “We could have our own party,” Scooter suggested.

  “Just the three of us?” she asked loud enough for Nick to hear. He used to call her a baby, usually right after he’d thrown a grasshopper at her. She wasn’t a baby now.

  A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, then he turned and disappeared into the market.

  “We could go back to our house,” Wes continued. “Our parents are out of town.”

  Delaney returned her attention to the brothers. “Ah… are you going to invite anyone else?”

  “Why?”

  “For a party,” she answered.

  “Do you have any girlfriends you can call?”

  She thought about her only friend home sick with a cold and shook her head. “Don’t you know some other people you can invite?”

  Scooter smiled and took a step closer. “Why would I want to do that?”

  For the first time, apprehension fluttered in
Delaney’s stomach. “Because you want to party, remember?”

  “We’ll party. Don’t you worry.”

  “You’re scaring her, Scoot.” Wes pushed his brother and knocked him aside. “Come back to our house and we’ll call people from there.”

  Delaney didn’t believe him and lowered her gaze to her sandals. She’d wanted to be like other eighteen-year-old girls. She’d wanted to do something reckless, but she wasn’t up for a threesome. And there was no doubt that’s what they had in mind. If and when Delaney decided to lose her virginity, it wouldn’t be with one or both of the Finleys. She’d seen their pale butts-and thank you, no.

  Getting rid of them was going to be difficult, and she wondered how long she would have to stand in front of the Hollywood Market before they finally gave up and went away.

  When she looked up, Nick stood by the side of his car shoving a six-pack of beer in the backseat. He straightened, rested his weight on one foot, and pinned his gaze on Delaney. He stared at her for several long moments, then said, “Come here, princess.”

  There’d been a time when she’d been both frightened and fascinated by him at the same time. He’d always been so cocky, so sure of himself, and so forbidden. She was no longer afraid, and the way she saw it, she had two choices: trust him or trust the Finleys. Neither option was great, but despite his nasty reputation, she knew Nick wouldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to do. She wasn’t so sure she could say the same for Scooter and Wes. “See you guys around,” she said, then slowly walked to the baddest of the bad boys. The leap in her pulse had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the smooth rich tone of his voice.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I walked into town.”

  He opened the driver’s side door. “Climb in.”

  She looked up into his smoky eyes. He wasn’t a boy anymore, no doubt about it. “Where are we going?”

  He nodded toward the Finleys. “Does it matter?”