Only Forever

by Linda Lael Miller

  When Nick finally released her, having kissed her more thoroughly than Parker ever had in even the most intimate of moments, she was so dazed that she could only stare up at him in abject amazement. She made up her mind that she absolutely would not see him again, no matter what.

  He was too dangerous.

  “Are you working tomorrow?” he asked in a sleepy voice, toying with a tendril of titian hair that had slipped from her ivory barrette.

  Vanessa struggled to remember, her throat thick, her mind a razzle-dazzle of popping lights. Finally she shook her head.

  Nick grinned. “Good. Will you spend the day with me.

  No, no, no, cried Vanessa’s wounded spirit. “Yes,” she choked out.

  Nick smiled at her, tracing the curve of her cheek with one index finger, then reached for his jacket and shrugged into it. “We’d better get back out there before Paul and Janet decide we’re doing something in keeping with my image.”

  They went back to the dance floor, and Nick held her. It was an innocent intimacy but it stirred Vanessa’s senses, which had been largely dormant for the better part of a year, to an alarming pitch of need.

  Every time she dared to meet Nick’s eyes, it was as though he had taken away an item of her clothing, and yet she could not resist looking at him. The dilemma was at once delicious and maddening, and Vanessa was relieved when Nick didn’t offer to drive her home at the end of the evening.

  Paul lingered on the sidewalk for a few minutes, talking with Nick, while Vanessa and Janet settled themselves in the car.

  “Well,” Janet demanded the moment she’d snapped her seat belt into place, “what did you think of him?”

  Vanessa drew in a deep breath and let it out in an agitated rush. “I think I should have stayed home with my needlepoint,” she said.

  Janet turned in the car seat to look back at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. The man is a hunk!”

  Only now, when her nostrils weren’t filled with the subtle scent of his cologne and her body wasn’t pressed to his could Vanessa be rational and objective where Nick DeAngelo was concerned. “He’s also a jock,” she said miserably. “Do you have any idea how egotistical those men can be? Not to mention callous and self-serving?”

  Janet sighed. “Not every man is like Parker,” she insisted.

  The conversation was cut off at that point because Paul came back to the car, whistling cheerfully as he slid behind the wheel. Vanessa shrank into the corner of the seat, wishing, all in the same moment, that the night would end, that she could go back in time and say no to Nick’s suggestion that they spend the next day together and that tomorrow would hurry up and arrive so she could see him again.

  “Thanks,” she said ruefully when Paul saw her to her door a few minutes later.

  He smiled as she turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “Sounds as if you have mixed feelings about Nick,” he commented.

  Vanessa kicked off her high heels the moment she’d crossed the threshold. “I have no feelings about Nick,” she argued, facing Paul but keeping her eyes averted. “Absolutely none.”

  Her boss chuckled. “Good night, Van,” he said, and then he was gone, striding back down the front walk to his car.

  Vanessa locked the door, slipped out of her velvet evening coat and bent to pick up her discarded shoes. Her calico cat, Sari, curled around her ankles, meowing.

  Sari had already had her supper, and even though she had a weight problem, Vanessa couldn’t turn a deaf ear to her plaintive cries. She set her purse, coat and shoes down on the deacon’s bench in the hallway and allowed herself to be herded into the kitchen.

  Even before she flipped on the lights, she saw the blinking red indicator on the answering machine. Vanessa was in no mood to deal with relationships of any kind that night; she wanted to feed the cat and go to bed. Her own innate sense of responsibility—some calamity could have befallen Rodney or her aging grandparents—made her cross the room and push the play button.

  She was opening a can of cat food and scraping it into Sari’s dish when Parker’s voice filled the kitchen.

  The first message was relatively polite, but, as the tape progressed, Parker grew more and more irate. Finally he flared, “Don’t you ever stay home? Damn it, call me!”

  Vanessa had washed her hands and was about to turn off the machine when Nick’s voice rolled over her like a warm, rumbling wave. “You’re a terrific lady,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow.”

  Vanessa moaned faintly and sank into a chair, propping her chin in both hands. With a few idle words, the man had melted the muscles in her knees.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice deep and gentle, and then the tape was silent.

  After a few moments of sheer bewilderment, Vanessa got up and checked the locks on both the front and back doors. Then, taking her coat and shoes with her, Sari padding along beside her, she went upstairs.

  She hung her coat carefully in the closet and put the shoes back into their plastic box. Soon she was in bed, but sleep eluded her.

  She kept imagining what it would be like to lie beside Nick DeAngelo, in this bed or any other, and have him touch her, kiss her, make love to her. Just the thought made her ache.

  Sometime toward morning, Vanessa slept. The telephone awakened her to a full complement of sunshine, and she grappled for the receiver, losing it several times before she managed to maneuver it into place.

  “Hello,” she accused, shoving one hand through her rumpled hair and scowling.

  After knowing him such a short time, it seemed impossible, but she recognized Nick’s laughter. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re not a morning person.”

  Vanessa narrowed her eyes to peer at the clock and saw that it was nearly nine o’clock. She was glad Nick had called, she decided, because that gave her a chance to cancel their date. “Listen, I’ve been thinking—”

  He cut her off immediately. “Well, stop. You’ve obviously in no condition for that kind of exertion. I’ll be over in ten minutes to ply you with coffee.”

  “Nick!” Vanessa cried, afraid of being plied. But it was too late, he’d already hung up and she had no idea what his home telephone number was.

  Grumbling, she got out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom and took a shower. By the time Nick arrived, she was clad in jeans and a blue bulky knit sweater and was fully conscious.

  She greeted him at the front door, holding a cup of therapeutically strong coffee in one hand. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you on the phone, but…”

  Nick grinned in that disarming way he had and assessed her trim figure with blatant appreciation. “Good, you’re dressed,” he said, walking past her into the house.

  “You expected me to be naked?” Vanessa wanted to know.

  He laughed. “I’m allowed my share of fantasies, aren’t I?”

  Vanessa shook her head. Nick was impossible to shun. He was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, and he had the look of a man who knew where he was going to spend that chilly, sun-washed Saturday. “Come in, come in,” she chimed wryly as he preceded her down the hallway to the kitchen. “Don’t be shy.”

  He grinned at her over one shoulder. “I’ve never been accused of that,” he assured her.

  Vanessa had no doubt he was telling the truth. She gave up. “Where are we going?”

  “Running,” he said. “Then I thought we’d take in a movie….”

  Vanessa was holding up both hands in a demand for silence. “Wait a minute, handsome—rewind to the part about running.”

  Nick dragged his languorous brown eyes from the toes of her sneakers to the crown of her head. “Bad idea? You certainly look like someone who cares about fitness.”

  She sighed and poured her coffee into the sink. “Thank you—I think.”

  “I guess we could skip running—just for today,” he said, stepping closer to her.

  Vanessa’s senses went on red alert, and she leaped backward
as though he’d burned her. “On second thought, running sounds like a great idea,” she said, in a squeaky voice, embarrassed. “You seem to have a lot of—of extra energy.”

  He favored her with slow, sensuous grin. “Oh, believe me,” he said with quiet assurance, “I do.”

  Vanessa swallowed. It was beyond her how accepting a single blind date could get a person into so much trouble. She swore to herself that the next time Janet and Paul wanted to introduce her to someone, she was going to hide in the cellar until the danger passed.

  “Relax,” Nick said, approaching and taking her shoulders into his big, gentle hands. “You are one tense individual, Value Van.”

  Vanessa blinked. “What did you call me?”

  “I’ve gotten kind of caught up in this cable marketing thing,” he replied, his dark eyes twinkling. “I thought you should have a professional nickname, like your friend Markdown Mel. The possibilities are endless, you know—there’s Bargain Barbara, for instance, and Half-price Hannah…”

  Vanessa began to laugh. “I never know whether to take you seriously or not.”

  He bent his head and kissed her, innocently and briefly. “Oh, you should take me seriously, Van. It’s the rest of your life that needs mellowing out.”

  She gave him a shove. “Let’s go running,” she said.

  They drove to the nearest park in Nick’s Corvette. He led the way to the jogging path and immediately started doing stretching exercises.

  Vanessa eyed him ruefully, then began, in her own awkward fashion, to follow suit. “One thing about dating a jock,” she ventured to say, breathing a little hard as she tried to keep up with his bends and stretches, “a girl stays skinny, no matter what.”

  Nick started off down the path after rolling his eyes once, and Vanessa was forced to follow at a wary trot. “Are you saying that I’m not a fun guy?” he asked over one shoulder.

  “What could be more fun than this?” Vanessa countered, already gasping for breath. She’d dropped her exercise program during the divorce, and the effects of her negligence were painfully obvious.

  When they reached a straight stretch, Nick turned and ran backward, no trace of exertion visible in his manner or voice. “So, how long have you been a member of the loyal order of couch potatoes?” he asked companionably.

  “I hate you,” huffed Vanessa.

  “That really hurts, Value Van,” Nick replied. “See if I ever buy another pair of Elvis Presley bookends from you.”

  There was grass alongside the pathway, and Vanessa flung herself onto it, dragging air into her lungs and groaning. She couldn’t believe she was there in the park, torturing herself this way when she could have slept in until noon and sent out for Chinese food.

  Nick did not keep running, as she’d expected. Instead he flopped down on the cold grass beside her and said, “I appreciate the offer, but we haven’t known each other long enough.”

  Vanessa gave him a look and clambered to her feet. “Tired so soon?” she choked out, jogging off down the pathway.

  At the end of the route, which Vanessa privately thought of as The Gauntlet, the ice-blue Corvette sat shining in the autumn sunlight. She staggered toward it and collapsed into the passenger seat while Nick was still cooling down.

  When he slid behind the wheel, she barely looked at him. “What did I do to Janet to make her hate me like this?” she asked.

  Nick chuckled and started the car. “I’ll answer that when I’ve had a shower.”

  Vanessa’s eyes flew open wide. Showering was an element she hadn’t thought about, even though it seemed perfectly obvious now.

  Nick’s expression was suddenly serious. “Relax, Van,” he said. “It’s a private shower, and you’re not invited.”

  To her everlasting chagrin, Vanessa blushed like a Victorian schoolgirl. She was a reserved person, but not shy. She wondered again what it was about this man that circumvented all the normal rules of her personality and made her act like someone she didn’t even know.

  “It never crossed my mind that you might expect me to share a shower with you,” Vanessa lied, her chin at a prim angle, her arms folded.

  “Liar,” Nick replied with amused affection.

  He lived in a condominium on the top floor of one of the most historic buildings in Seattle, and the place had a quiet charm that surprised Vanessa. She had expected a playboy’s den with lots of velvet, chrome and smoked glass, but the spacious rooms were decorated in earth tones instead. There was an old-fashioned fireplace in the living room and a beautiful Navaho rug graced the wall above the cushy beige corduroy sofa.

  “Make yourself at home,” Nick said casually, ducking through a doorway and leaving Vanessa to stand there alone, feeling sweaty and rumpled and totally out of place.

  She went to the window and looked out on busy Elliot Bay. A passenger ferry was chugging into port, large and riverboatlike, and Vanessa smiled. In the distance, she heard the sound of running water and an off-key rendition of a current popular song.

  The view kept her occupied for what seemed like a long time, but when Nick didn’t return after ten minutes, Vanessa began to grow uneasy. She approached the big-screen television in one corner of the room and pushed the On button.

  Immediately the Midas Network leaped out at her in living color, life-size. She turned the set off again and began to pace, tempted to sneak out before this nonrelationship with Nick DeAngelo grew into something she couldn’t handle.

  She was just reaching for the doorknob when his voice stopped her.

  “Don’t go,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you in any way, Vanessa. I swear it.”

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t drop her hand to her side or turn the knob and make her escape.

  “Something really important is happening here,” he went on. “Can’t you feel it?”

  Vanessa let her forehead rest against the cool panel of the door. “Yes,” she confessed in a strangled voice, “and that’s what scares me.”

  He stepped closer to her and laid his hands very gently on her shoulders. She was filled with the scent of his clean hair, his freshly washed skin. “I won’t let anything happen that you’re not ready for,” he promised, and when he turned her around to face him, Vanessa was powerless to resist.

  She looked up at him with eyes full of trust and fear, and he let his hands drop to her waist. He was careful not to hold her too close, and yet she was achingly aware of his total, unreserved masculinity.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he said matter-of-factly. “That is, if you’re ready.”

  She slid her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe, exhilarated and, at the same time, terrified. “I’m ready,” she answered, her mouth only a whisper away from his.

  3

  “Want a shower now?”

  Vanessa, her energy drained by the kiss, had sagged back against the door when it was over. Her eyes opened wide, however, when Nick’s words registered. “I beg your pardon?”

  He turned and walked off toward the open kitchen, looking too good for comfort in his jeans and cut-off shirt. His stomach muscles made hard ripples when he lifted his arm to open a cupboard door, and Vanessa felt vaguely dizzy.

  At that moment there was only one thing in the world she wanted more than a shower. She followed him, careful to keep the breakfast bar between them. “I don’t have any clean clothes to put on,” she ventured to say.

  Nick shrugged. “Some of Gina’s things are still here. You’re about her size, I think.”

  The name made Vanessa round the breakfast bar. “Gina?” she asked, looking up at him.

  He kissed her forehead. “My sister,” he assured her.

  The relief Vanessa felt was embarrassing in its scope. “I’ve never had to shower on a date before,” she confessed.

  Nick chuckled at that. “Never?”

  Vanessa looked up into his dancing eyes and felt a painful tug somewhere in the region of her heart. She wanted to appear glamorous and sophisticate
d, but the truth was far different. She’d never been with any man besides Parker, and, when and if she went to bed with Nick, it was going to be almost like reliving the first time. At last she shook her head and answered, “Never.”

  He started to put his arms around her and then stopped. “Do you like Chinese food?” he asked.

  Vanessa nodded.

  “Good. You’ll find the clothes and the shower down the hall—first room on the right. I’ll go get our lunch while you’re changing—okay?”

  “Okay,” Vanessa answered, not knowing quite what to make of this man. She knew Nick was attracted to her, and yet when he had an advantage, he didn’t press it.

  The room Nick had directed her to was large, though it obviously wasn’t the place where he slept. There was a private bathroom, however, and Vanessa locked herself in before stripping off the clothes she’d worn to run in the park.

  When she finished showering, she found the promised clothes in closets and bureaus and finally helped herself to a jumpsuit of navy corduroy. She buttoned it to her eyeballs and was just entering the living room when Nick returned with cartons of fragrant sweet-and-sour chicken, chow mein and fried rice.

  He smiled and shook his head when he saw the jumpsuit. “Feel better?” he asked.

  Vanessa felt a number of things, and she wasn’t ready to talk about any of them. She went to the cupboards and opened doors until she found plates for their food. They ate at the breakfast bar, perched on stools, and Nick insisted on using chopsticks.

  “Show off,” Vanessa said, spearing a succulent morsel of chicken with her fork.

  He surprised her by laying down his chopsticks, reaching out and unfastening the top two buttons of the jumpsuit. “The weather’s getting nasty outside,” he commented, “but it’s warm enough in here.”

  Vanessa blushed, embarrassed. She knew Nick thought she was a hidebound prude, but she didn’t have the nerve to prove she wasn’t. Not yet.

  He leaned over and gave her a nibbling kiss on the lips. “Everything is okay, Van,” he promised her quietly. “Just relax.”

  A light rain spattered the windows, and Nick left his stool to light a fire on the hearth. The crackling sound was cozy, and the colorful blaze gave that corner of the room a cheery glow.