Vanessa could bear no more. She lunged for the monitor’s Off button and then covered her face with both hands and groaned in helpless despair.
“Congratulations on the reconciliation, Van,” Oliver boomed. “Does this mean we’ll be forced to get along without you here at the old network?”
Vanessa glared at him, pointedly ignoring his remark, and stormed out.
That stint on camera was the most difficult of Vanessa’s brief career, and when it was over she had to sit through a long meeting with the buyers. The products that would be featured for the next few days were demonstrated in detail, and price lists were passed out.
When she got home, the cleaning lady was there, and the living room was filled to the rafters with flowers. If Rodney had been around, Vanessa reflected ruefully, he’d have thought he was back at the funeral parlor.
As she’d expected, the carnations, roses and daisies were all from Parker, who thought surely he’d won her heart by forgiving her on national television. A headache pulsed under Vanessa’s left temple, and she snapped at the cleaning lady when the doorbell rang.
“Shut that vacuum cleaner off!”
Looking wounded, Marita kicked the switch and stomped off into the kitchen. Vanessa opened the door, expecting another shipment of flowers, and found Nick standing there instead of a delivery man.
His jawline looked like granite. “When did you make the decision not to see me anymore, Vanessa?” he demanded, pushing past her when she didn’t invite him inside. “Before or after you came to my apartment and let me make love to you? Before or after you decided to go back to Lawrence?”
Vanessa shoved her hands into her hair. “You didn’t make love to me,” she said lamely. It was a moot point, but she was desperate. “And I don’t have any intention of reconciling with Parker. He made the whole thing up to sell books.”
Nick was visibly relieved, but only for a moment. “Just how firm is this decision that we shouldn’t see each other again?” he asked quietly, facing her now, standing so close that she could feel the heat and power of his body.
She remembered what Gina had said about the way Nick acted when he was sick or hurt, and a wave of tenderness swept over her. She couldn’t help smiling a little. “Why do you ask?” she countered, because she didn’t know what to say.
He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Because I’m crazy about you, Value Van.”
Vanessa stepped back, lifting one eyebrow. “So crazy that you didn’t even return my call when I left that message on your machine. Or was it just that you didn’t go home that night?”
Nick sighed. “I went to Portland, Van—I’m opening a new restaurant there.”
Marita peered tentatively around the door jamb. She was from some South American country and spoke very little English. “I come back now?” she queried, poised to run.
“Yes,” Vanessa said, closing her eyes.
Nick took her elbow gently into his hand. “What do you say we go somewhere and talk?”
Vanessa could only nod, and they’d reached the sensible solace of Nick’s apartment before she spoke. “Do you have any aspirin?”
After favoring her with a grin and a kiss on the forehead, Nick disappeared down the hallway, returning momentarily with two white tablets and a glass of water. Vanessa swallowed the aspirin gratefully and then staggered across the room and threw herself down on his cushy sofa.
“The day was really that bad, huh?” Nick said, sitting down on the sofa and placing her feet in his lap. He slipped her shoes off and tossed them away, then began massaging her aching arches and insteps.
“It was terrible!” Vanessa wailed, her arms folded across her face.
Nick went right on rubbing her feet, saying nothing, and she felt compelled to hurl something into the conversational void.
“Why did you leave football?”
Nick chuckled. “I’d made all the money I needed and I wanted to get out before I ruined my back or one of my knees.”
The massage felt sinfully good—in fact, it was beginning to arouse Vanessa, though she would never have admitted that. “Sensible,” she said with a sigh. “That’s you, Nick DeAngelo.”
“Um-hmm,” he answered, gently working the taut muscles of Vanessa’s left calf.
She gave an involuntary whimper. “Stop,” she said with such a lack of sincerity that Nick didn’t even hesitate.
“Let’s go out to the island tonight,” he suggested in a reasonable tone.
Vanessa raised her head to look at him. “I have to work tomorrow,” she said.
“So do I. There’s ferry service—we can be back in plenty of time.”
“But we would spend the night?”
Nick didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
She pulled her leg free and sat up. “I thought we had an understanding about that,” she said tautly.
Nick reached out and hauled her easily onto his lap. “I didn’t say we’d sleep together,” he said in a deep, sleepy voice.
“Then what’s the point of going?”
He laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Lawrence. We could walk on the beach, listen to music by the fire and talk. We could play cribbage, drink wine and bake brownies….”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “You are weird.”
“Saturday I was remarkable. What happened?”
Van was feeling harried, and the idea of spending a peaceful night in an island hideaway was not without appeal. But there were those correlations. “I got to thinking that you’re probably a whole lot like Parker,” she confessed, looking away.
He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. “I hate it when you do that,” he said in a low, angry voice. “Don’t compare me to him, Vanessa.”
She shrugged. “He’s a jock, you’re a jock. He’s a party animal, you’re a party animal—”
“Tell me one thing, Vanessa,” Nick interrupted, his dark eyes hot with quiet anger. “Did he let you decide when the two of you would make love for the first time?”
Vanessa looked away. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“Did he?” Nick insisted.
“No,” she was forced to admit after a long time. Tears welled in her lashes. “No! I had too much wine on our second date and the next morning I woke up in his bed! Are you happy now?”
Nick closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
Vanessa sniffled and started to get off his lap, but his arms tightened around her and the thought of rebelling didn’t even cross her mind.
“Are you still in love with him?” he asked.
“No,” Vanessa answered without hesitation.
“Then come to the island with me.”
“I have a cat to think about, you know,” Vanessa pointed out, as Nick began kissing her neck in much the way he had on Saturday.
“Rodney will feed it,” he said.
Vanessa trembled. She wasn’t ready for a physical relationship, and yet she wondered how she would endure spending a whole night on an island with Nick without offering herself to him. “Our deal still holds? That I get to choose the time, I mean?”
Nick opened the top button of her blouse. “Yes, but it’s only fair to tell you that I’m going to make it hard to wait.”
“Oh,” Vanessa answered inanely as another button gave way. He slid his hand inside her blouse to caress her breast, and she thought she was going to go insane with wanting him.
As it happened, though, the doorbell rang. Vanessa scrambled to her feet and began righting her blouse while Nick strode, grumbling, across the living room to open the door.
The wonders of the jet age, Vanessa reflected, staring at the visitor in amazement.
Parker glared at Nick as he stepped back to admit him. “It’s good to see that you haven’t changed, DeAngelo,” Parker said furiously.
Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Is that what you came here to say?” he asked.
Parker had already turned
his attention to Vanessa, and he looked for all the world like a betrayed husband, stricken at the discovery of his wife’s faithlessness. “How could you, Van?” he rasped. “After the flowers and—”
Vanessa was incensed. “And your generous offer over national television to ‘forgive’ me?”
“I love you!” Parker bellowed.
“You don’t know what love is,” Vanessa cried, her chin high and her shoulders square. She took comfort from Nick’s presence, but it was even better realizing that she could handle the situation on her own. “Once and for all, Parker, it’s over. Now go away and leave me alone.”
Parker glowered at Nick, obviously seeing him as the villain of the piece, and then left in a rage, slamming the door behind him.
Vanessa glanced at her watch. “If we’re going to the island,” she said, “we’d better get started. I need to pick up some of my clothes and feed the cat before we leave.”
Nick grinned. “Whatever you say, lady,” he teased. “I wouldn’t dare cross you.”
5
Nick’s island house was gray with white trim and latticework, and it was enormous. Standing hardly more than a stone’s throw from the beach, the place had a friendly look about it, and Vanessa’s first impression was favorable.
Still, what she knew of Nick’s reputation haunted her subconscious, but she refused to entertain the thought. She was tired, even frazzled, and she needed the peace Nick and his grand old house were offering.
The inside was furnished in the same comfortable way as his condominium in Seattle; the sofas and chairs were soft and welcoming, the carpets deep. The paintings were watercolors in muted shades.
Nick led the way through the living room and up the stairway to the second floor. He passed several closed doors, then opened one on the right. “You can sleep in here,” he said.
Vanessa bit her lip and slipped past him into a room decorated for a woman. The curtains and the spread on the gleaming brass bed were a pastel floral print, and there were two white wicker chairs in front of the window, their seats upholstered to match.
“It’s Gina’s,” Nick said, laying an index finger to Vanessa’s lips just as she was about to open her mouth to ask.
He set her overnight case and garment bag on the bed and gestured toward the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you where my room is—just in case.”
Vanessa laughed. “Just in case what?”
Nick gave her a look. “Did I forget to tell you? The place is haunted. If you hear anything spooky, all you’ll have to do is climb in bed with me and you’ll be safe.”
“I’ve heard some lines in my time, buddy,” Vanessa replied, preceding him out into the hall, “but that one beats them all.”
His room was really more of a suite with a fireplace and six floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sea. Vanessa glanced at the water bed and quickly shifted her eyes away.
Nick shook his head and pushed up the sleeves of his bright turquoise sweater. A look at the half-open door of the closet explained why he hadn’t brought spare clothes.
“What we need is some exercise,” he said resolutely. “Let’s go out for a run before it gets dark.”
The way he’d phrased the suggestion made Vanessa feel like an Irish setter, and she did not share Nick’s passion for running, but she wanted to be a good sport. She’d brought along an old set of sweats and some sneakers, and she went to put them on.
When she descended, Nick was already downstairs, warming up.
They followed the beach until Vanessa was near collapse, then started back. She knew Nick was adjusting his pace to hers, and she tried not to slow him down too much.
Returning to the house was a vast relief. Vanessa threw herself onto the porch steps, gasping for breath, only to be hauled back to her feet again by Nick. She did seemingly endless cooling-down exercises before he was satisfied that he’d tortured her enough.
“I’m not sure I have the stamina for a relationship with you,” she said when they were in the kitchen a few minutes later.
“Why do you think I’m trying to build up your endurance?” Nick got a bag of cookies down from a cupboard and took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator. Sniffing the milk, he made a face and tossed it into the trash.
Vanessa grinned, shaking her head. “Your self-confidence overwhelms me.”
Nick took two cookies from the bag and stuffed them into his mouth, one right after the other. “I was hoping it would be my charm and good looks,” he said. He was standing right in front of Vanessa before she realized that he’d been approaching her.
She brushed a few chocolate crumbs from his lips. “That, too,” she conceded.
Her back was to the counter—that was another fact that had sneaked up on her—and Nick had only to lean against her gently to imprison her. He did that without any apparent attack of conscience, and Vanessa ached in response to the hard grace of his body. He bent his head and kissed her, and his mouth tasted deliciously of chocolate cookies and controlled passion.
Vanessa was dazed when he finally broke away, propelled her toward the back stairway and swatted her playfully on the bottom.
“To the showers, team,” he said in a hoarse voice, and when Vanessa looked back over her shoulder, she saw him shove a hand through his hair in frustration.
Since Gina’s room didn’t come with its own bath like its counterpart in the condominium, Vanessa took her shower in the main bathroom. She put on gray slacks and a kelly green blouse, along with a light touch of makeup.
Nick was dropping an armload of wood onto the hearth in his bedroom when Vanessa finally gathered the nerve to creep to the doorway and look inside. He was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button over his T-shirt.
Vanessa cleared her throat to let him know she was there, and he gave her a sidelong grin that said he’d been aware of her presence from the first.
“There’s a storm coming in from the north,” he said, laying a fire in the grate.
Vanessa’s eyes widened, the lightning that had changed her forever still fresh in her mind. Her gaze skittered nervously to the big bed and back again.
Nick saw her trepidation and smiled. “Come in and sit down, Van. You ought to know by now that I’m not going to hurl you down and have my way with you.”
There were comfortably upholstered chairs in front of the fireplace, and Vanessa went to sit in one of them, watching the motions of Nick’s back as he finished building the fire, and thinking.
Ever since she’d met Nick, she’d been pondering the powerful effect he had on her senses and emotions, and she understood at least one thing, Nick DeAngelo was the kind of man most women dreamed of meeting—strong, handsome, successful and far too good to be true.
There had to be a glaring fault that would come leaping out at her when she let down her guard and trusted him—and that was the moment Vanessa feared most. She drew her bare feet up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs.
“Tell me about Jenna,” she said, tilting her head to one side.
Nick sighed and reluctantly turned from the fire. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Why she left you, for one thing.”
“She had a big problem with trust,” Nick recalled, looking not at Vanessa but beyond her, it seemed, into the distant past. “I couldn’t go anywhere without having her call or drive by to see if I was really where I said I’d be. We started to fight, the marriage fell apart and we went our separate ways.”
Vanessa swallowed, remembering her own experience with Parker. “Did you give Jenna reason not to trust you?”
Nick looked insulted that she would even ask the question. “No,” he replied with biting directness.
A few moments passed before Vanessa had the courage to speak again. “There was more to it than that, I think,” she mused aloud.
“We disagreed about a lot of fundamental things,” Nick admitted. “Kids, for instance.”
V
anessa sat up straighter. This was a subject that mattered to her. She wanted children of her own more than anything else in the world, including the job on Seattle This Morning or a place on a television news team. “She wanted them and you didn’t,” she blurted out, braced for the worst, expecting Nick to feel as Parker had.
She got another angry, heated look for her trouble. “Wrong,” he replied, turning away to throw an unnecessary chunk of wood onto an already thriving fire. “Jenna wanted to be the only child in my life. She was afraid a baby would steal the show.”
Vanessa bit her lower lip and looked down at her lap, wishing she’d allowed Nick to tell her what he felt without holding him up against Parker first and then taking her clues from the comparison.
The silence stretched, and Nick finally got to his feet and pushed the screen up close to the fireplace. “What about you?” he asked, keeping his back to her. “Do you want children, Vanessa?”
She swallowed. Here was her chance to distance herself from Nick DeAngelo once and for all, to eliminate him and all the danger he represented from her life. Here was her opportunity to go back to being safe and ordinary.
She couldn’t lie to him.
“A houseful,” she answered, dropping her eyes when she saw him start to turn toward her.
“What about your career?” he asked. “What about selling foot massagers and wicker birdcages and porch lights?”
He was crouching in front of Vanessa’s chair, grasping both its arms in his hands, and there was no way she could escape. “I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life selling birdcages and porch lights,” she said. “I—I have an interview for another job on Friday, as a matter of fact.”
“You’re hedging,” Nick accused, and the timbre of his voice and the scent of his freshly showered skin combined to make Vanessa slightly dizzy.
“I want to work, Nick,” she said quietly, purposefully. “And I want babies, too. When—and if—I remarry, my husband will have to do more than help make children. He’ll have to help raise them, too.”
“Fair enough,” he replied, his voice a husky rumble low in his chest. He drew Vanessa out of her chair, and she ended up kneeling astride his lap.
“Don’t we need to go to the store and buy milk or something?” Vanessa queried, her voice an octave higher than usual.
Only Forever Page 6
