The sound of Nick’s laughter seemed to brush against the hollow beneath Vanessa’s right ear. “Milk?” he echoed.
“T-to go with the cookies.” Vanessa knew she sounded desperate.
He chuckled and began kissing the delicate flesh of her neck. “Cravings already?” he teased.
Vanessa wondered how in the name of heaven she was going to resist this man until she’d reached that mysterious point of readiness that so eluded her. “Nick,” she pleaded.
“Hmm?” He pulled out her tucked-in blouse and then proceeded to unbutton it. The tingling pattern his lips painted on her neck continued without interruption.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered breathlessly. Her head fell backward as he pushed the front of her blouse aside.
He unfastened the front catch on her lace-trimmed, silky pink bra, freeing her. “Life is never fair,” he reminded her.
Against her better judgment, Vanessa leaned back even farther when his hands rose to cup her breasts. “Ooooooh,” she said.
Nick was kissing his way down over her collarbone. “My sentiments exactly,” he replied just before he closed his mouth over one straining nipple.
Vanessa clasped both hands behind her head, increasing both her vulnerability and her pleasure. Her lips were parted, and her eyes closed as she reveled in nurturing Nick; she could feel and hear his desire, and it heightened her own.
He was moaning as he enjoyed her like a man wild with fever, and when she would have lowered her hands, he held them in place. The fingers of his left hand rubbed Vanessa’s bare back, at once positioning her for his own unrestricted access and stroking her reassuringly.
The moment he released her wrists, Vanessa was peeling off his shirt and tossing it away, tearing at the T-shirt beneath. She would have undressed him completely if his position hadn’t made that impossible.
His chest was muscular and matted with dark hair and, as Vanessa had, he leaned back slightly, in effect surrendering at least a part of his body to her explorations. He gave a powerful shudder and moaned low in his throat as she kissed, caressed and nibbled at him.
After a long time he rose gracefully to his feet, drawing Vanessa with him, clasping her close even as he stripped her of her blouse and dangling bra and began unfastening her slacks.
“If you want to stop this, Vanessa,” he warned, “turn around and walk out of the room right now. Whatever self-control I might have had is gone, and all bets are off.”
Looking up into his smoldering brown eyes, Vanessa remained where she was and opened the top button of his jeans. “All bets are off,” she repeated, to let him know that she understood what was about to happen, that she welcomed it.
He kissed her then with all the passion he’d been holding back, and Vanessa could only guess at the strength it had taken to restrain such a torrent. She was hardly aware of being carried to the bed or undressed, and even though the sky outside was clear and quiet, the room crackled with lightning.
Nick was poised above her, his mouth covering hers in another mind-splintering kiss, the mattress rippling sensuously beneath her. Vanessa ran gentle hands up and down his broad, sinewy back, telling him without words that she wanted him.
He took her in a long, slow thrust that set her to twisting her head from side to side on the pillow, delirious in her need.
“Easy,” he rasped out, and she could feel the struggle between Nick’s mind and his body as he lay perfectly still inside her. “Take it easy, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world….”
Vanessa tried to force him to provide the friction, the motion, that she needed so desperately, but he was too big and too powerful and she could not move him. “Oh God, Nick. Why do you do this to me—why do you love making me wait?”
He chuckled and gave her a single, searing stroke metered to drive her insane, but his expression was serious when he spoke. “I want you to remember this always—it has to be special.”
Vanessa arched her neck, felt his lips descend to the fevered skin there. “It is—I swear it. I’ll remember…”
His laugh vibrated through his vocal cords and captured her heart like a warm summer wind. “So this is the secret to making you agree to my terms, is it?” he teased.
But he began to move upon her after that, quickening his pace heartbeat by heartbeat, stroke by stroke until Vanessa was covered from head to foot in a fine sheen of perspiration, until she was moaning and flinging her head from side to side.
“Let go,” Nick whispered raggedly near her ear. “Stop fighting it and let go.” His words broke down the last flimsy wall enclosing Vanessa’s soul.
With a series of straining cries, she surrendered all that she was to Nick, all that she’d ever been or ever would be. The relief was exquisite; for a time, her soul escaped its bonds and flew free.
There was no restraint in Nick’s release. He trembled, lunged deep inside her and cried out in satisfaction as pleasure induced its unique seizure.
For a long time afterward there were no sounds in the room except for their breathing and the popping of the fire. Then inexplicably, uncontrollably, Vanessa began to weep.
Nick groaned and rolled over to look down into her face. “Don’t do this to me, Van,” he pleaded, wiping away a tear with one thumb. “Please, don’t be sorry for what we did.”
She shook her head. “I’m not,” she managed to say. “It’s just that—”
He kissed her briefly on the mouth. “It’s just that we don’t know each other well enough, right?”
She nodded. “Right.”
He leered at her and wriggled his eyebrows. “Okay, I’m an eighties guy, I can relate. What’s your sign, Baby?”
Vanessa gave a shout of laughter through her tears. “Stop,” she pleaded. “This is a sensitive moment.”
Nick squinted at the clock on the bedside stand. “It’s also dinnertime, and I’m hungry as hell. Let’s make spaghetti.”
Vanessa was too relaxed to contemplate getting up and doing any kind of work. “Make spaghetti? I am spaghetti.”
“I have a hot tub,” Nick wheedled, sliding downward and beginning to kiss her neck again.
Vanessa knew where that would lead. She twisted free and sat up. “You have a hot tub,” she mused, looking at Nick with shining eyes. “What the devil does that have to do with cooking spaghetti?”
Nick declined to answer that and said instead, “On second thought, let’s go out to dinner. I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m a cheap date.”
They took a shower, this time sharing the same stall, and dressed in the clothes that had been strewn from one side of the bedroom to the other. Vanessa reapplied her makeup and styled her hair.
“I hope this place is casual,” she said, giving Nick’s jeans and flannel shirt a look.
The restaurant was a few miles away on the edge of the only town the small island boasted, and the spaghetti there was good.
“The owner must be Italian,” Vanessa guessed, stabbing a meatball with her fork and lifting it to her mouth.
“Paddy O’Shaughnessy?” Nick teased. “Definitely. He probably grew up in Naples, or maybe Verona.”
It was a night full of nonsense, restorative and precious, and Vanessa didn’t want it to end. She knew, of course, that it would, and that the morning would bring painful regrets. She concentrated on enjoying Nick, the spaghetti and, later, the hot tub.
There were plants in the glass-walled room where the hot tub bubbled and churned, and Vanessa wrapped herself in the night sky with its glittering mantle of stars. “This must be what it’s like when you’re on safari,” she said after swallowing a sip of wine. “I can just imagine that we’re camped alongside a steaming river with crocodiles slipping by, unseen, unheard…”
“Now that’s a romantic thought,” Nick observed.
Vanessa hiccuped and looked accusingly at her wine. “I’ve had too much vino,” she told Nick seriously. “I’d better sleep in Gina’s bed tonight.”
&
nbsp; If Nick was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Whatever you say, princess,” he said quietly, taking the glass from her hand and setting it on the tiled edge of the large square tub. “I don’t want you to have any regrets when you look back on today.”
“I won’t,” Vanessa said, even though she knew she would. The wounds Parker had left were only partially healed, and she wouldn’t be able to disregard the similarities between him and Nick forever.
When she yawned, Nick lifted her out of the tub. “Time for bed,” he said. “We have to get up early.”
Vanessa scrambled for a towel, not because she was naked, but because she was chilled, and she watched unabashedly while Nick got out of the tub and switched off the jets. He was so incredibly secure in his masculinity that he didn’t reveal the slightest qualm about being nude.
When he pulled on a blue terrycloth robe, it was an unhurried action, meant for comfort and not modesty. In fact, when Vanessa came to him he opened the garment long enough to enfold her inside, against his ribs.
They walked upstairs that way, talking idly of spaghetti and hot tubs, and parted after a brief kiss in the doorway of Gina’s room.
The sheets were cold. The moon and stars must have all gathered on the other side of the house, for there was no light for Vanessa to dream by. She missed Nick, even though they had parted only a few minutes before and he was just one room away.
Snuggling down determinedly, she closed her eyes and commanded herself to sleep. Despite her utter weariness, oblivion eluded her. She tossed, turned and tossed again.
Finally she got out of bed, put a robe on over her striped silk pajamas and padded across the hall.
“Nick?” she questioned softly from the doorway of his room.
He sounded sleepy. “What?”
“I think I heard something.”
A motion in the moon-shadowed bed and a throaty groan of contentment told her he was stretching like some cocky panther. “Like what?” he asked innocently.
Vanessa shrugged. “You said there were ghosts….”
“Yup,” Nick agreed, “I did.” He threw back the covers to make a place for her beside him. “There’s only one thing to do, Tonto. Circle up the wagons and share a bunk.”
Vanessa was across the room and between Nick’s satin sheets in a wink. She snuggled up against him, reveling in his warmth and his strength. “I’m going to hate myself when I wake up in the morning,” she confessed with a contented sigh.
Nick kissed her forehead. “I know,” he answered sadly. “And me, too, probably.”
Vanessa rested her head on his shoulder. “Probably,” she said, and then she dropped off to sleep.
When she awakened at dawn, Nick was gone. She knew he was probably out running, and she was grateful for the time to sort out where she was and what she’d done the night before.
She’d had her shower and dressed for work by the time Nick returned. Clad in running shorts, a tank top and a jacket, despite the fact that November was fast approaching, he looked at Van warily as he crossed the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out the milk he and Vanessa had stopped for on the way home from O’Shaughnessy’s the night before.
“Let’s hear it,” he started. “You hate me, you had too much wine last night and waking up the morning in my bed was an instant replay of the first time with Parker. Right?”
Vanessa was eating a slice of whole wheat toast slathered with honey. “Do I look traumatized?” she asked, chewing.
He cocked his head to one side, frowning. “No,” he said, sounding surprised. “Are you saying you don’t regret letting me make love to you?”
“Excuse me,” Vanessa said, pouring herself a cup of the coffee that had been waiting when she came downstairs, “but you didn’t do everything, you know. I was half of that little encounter.” She paused and drew a deep breath, then let it out. “To answer your question, yes and no.”
Nick gave her a wry look. “Yes and no. I like a decisive woman.”
“It was too soon,” she said. “I probably wasn’t ready.”
He set the milk back in the refrigerator and put his hands on his hips. “You seemed ready to me,” he replied.
Vanessa blushed at the good-natured jibe and sipped her coffee to avoid having to say something.
“That takes care of the yes. What about the no? What don’t you regret, Vanessa?”
Vanessa dropped her eyes. “The passion,” she answered after a long time. “You brought me back into the world, Nick, and I’m grateful.”
“Gratitude isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do for now,” he answered, and then he disappeared up the stairs. When he came back, he was wearing tan corduroy slacks, gleaming leather boots and a green turtleneck sweater.
Vanessa assessed him appreciatively. “How much time have we got before the ferry leaves?”
Nick took in her blue suede dress and sighed heavily. “Not enough,” he lamented. He took her in his arms and kissed her with knee-weakening thoroughness before whispering hoarsely, “I wish we could stay here forever.”
Vanessa laid her head against his chest. “Me, too,” she said, but she knew the magic was already slipping away.
It seemed sadly fitting that, when they drove aboard the ferry to return to Seattle, dark clouds were gathering in the northern sky.
The storm Nick had predicted was almost upon them.
6
When Vanessa finished her segment that morning, Parker was waiting at the door of the women’s dressing room. His arms were folded across his chest, and his features were set in a sour scowl.
“Where were you last night?” he demanded in a furious whisper.
Vanessa sighed. “We’re divorced, Parker, and that’s all I’m going to say about last night or anything else.” She started to walk around him, but he reached out and took her arm in a painful grasp.
His nose was an inch from Vanessa’s as he rasped, “You slept with him, didn’t you?”
Vanessa wrenched free of his hold, her face hot with color. A receptionist was approaching with a folded piece of paper in her hand, looking scared.
“Sh-should I call security, Ms. Lawrence?”
Vanessa saw nothing to fear and everything to pity in Parker’s eyes at that moment, and she shook her head as he made a visible effort to control himself. “Everything is fine, Karen,” she lied.
Karen darted an uneasy glance at Parker and held out the paper to Vanessa. “Mr. DeAngelo called while you were on the air,” she explained.
Vanessa scanned the note and suppressed a sigh. There was some kind of problem at the new restaurant in Portland, and Nick would be away until Friday. She bit her lower lip and crumpled the message into a ball. “Thank you,” she said to the receptionist, who promptly hurried away.
“Have lunch with me,” Parker said.
Vanessa stared at him. “You must be insane.”
He treated her to his most endearing smile. “Look at it this way—if you don’t, I’ll just follow you home and you’ll have to feed me anyway.”
“I’d be more likely to call the police,” Vanessa said.
Parker shrugged. “Whereas a restaurant would be a safe, neutral place—very public.”
Vanessa sighed. She was in a glum mood and Parker was the last person she wanted to spend time with, especially when she knew he was going to tell her something she didn’t want to know, but she finally nodded. She couldn’t hide forever.
While her ex-husband waited, she toned down her makeup, gathered up the list of times she would be selling the next day and braced herself for the worst.
A soft rain was falling as Parker and Vanessa hurried across the employee parking lot to her car. Parker had arrived in a cab, which said a lot about his confidence in his powers of persuasion.
Unable to stand it any longer, Vanessa looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she snapped her seat belt into place. “You’re going to tell me something about Nick, aren’t you? Something awf
ul.”
Parker’s expression was one of regretful gallantry. “This thing between you and him is getting serious, and I can’t let it go any further.”
“What?” Vanessa cried, frustrated beyond all bearing. “What’s so terrible about Nick?”
Parker sighed. “All I’m going to say for right now is that he’s not husband material. DeAngelo is ten times the bastard I ever was.”
Vanessa offered no comment on that, and as she drove out of the studio compound, she gnawed nervously at her lower lip. Normally she wouldn’t have given Parker’s words any credence—he was, after all, a lying, manipulative cheat. But she had a spooky, gut-level feeling that this time he had something valid to say.
“Where do you want to go for lunch?” she asked even though every trace of her appetite was gone.
He named a nearby bar and grill, and Vanessa drove toward it.
They were settled in a booth with cushioned leather seats and roast beef sandwiches and glasses of beer in front of them, when Parker grinned at her and said, “Just like old times, huh, Van?”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Stop it, Parker. Too much has happened for us to be sitting here pretending to have fond memories.”
Parker looked hurt. “You don’t have any happy memories of us? Not even one?”
Vanessa thought of the early part of their marriage when she’d adored Parker, when everything he said had made her either laugh or cry. She’d lived on an emotional seesaw in those days, believing herself to be happy. In retrospect, she knew she had suffered. “Don’t push, okay?” she said, averting her eyes. She hadn’t been able to touch her sandwich, but she reached for the glass of beer with a trembling hand.
“You’re really nervous, aren’t you?” Parker’s features darkened, indicating an approaching storm. “Are you that crazy about DeAngelo?”
Vanessa saw no point in lying. “Yes,” she said straight out. “I am.”
“Why?” Parker demanded, and some of the shaved beef slid out of his sandwich because he was squeezing it so hard.
Vanessa shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even though her stomach was roiling and her throat was closed tight. It wasn’t fair of her to try to convict the man she loved on whatever it was Parker was going to say, especially when Nick wasn’t there to defend himself.
Only Forever Page 7
