She sank her teeth into her lower lip. “Yes,” she said, after they’d mounted the steps and entered the interior of the restaurant. “Of course it matters.”
Wonderful aromas greeted Vanessa, reawakening her appetite.
Nick gave her a look. “Whatever you say,” he replied, putting his hand to her back and propelling her toward a set of sweeping, carpeted stairs.
Vanessa decided to save the serious issues they needed to talk about for later when she’d had some aspirin and something to eat. “Do you stay right here at the restaurant when you’re in Portland?” she asked, trying for a smile.
He nodded, opening a pair of double doors to admit her to an office that was the size of some hotel suites. “Sit down and relax,” he ordered, setting down her suitcase and striding toward the telephone on his desk. “I’ll have some dinner sent up. What do you want?”
“Spaghetti,” Vanessa answered without hesitation, thinking of the night in the San Juan Islands.
Nick nodded again and placed the order in clipped, brusque tones. It was obvious that he was distracted.
“I thought you weren’t going to be on the talk show,” he said, when the silence had lengthened to its limits.
So he’d seen the debacle. Vanessa lowered her eyes, embarrassed that she’d been so tongue-tied on the program. Everyone who’d watched—and the producers of Seattle This Morning might well have been among them—was probably thinking that she had all the personality of a secondhand dishrag.
“I changed my mind,” she replied almost in a whisper.
Nick sighed. “That was your prerogative,” he replied. “You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”
Vanessa looked at him with wide, weary eyes full of relief. “You were right,” she conceded in a small voice. “I shouldn’t have gone. I only made things worse.”
Nick crossed the room to sit beside her, and the moment he took her into his arms she burst into tears.
He kissed her eyelids and her wet, salty cheeks before taking her mouth and taming it with his own. Vanessa’s exhausted body was captured in an instant and largely involuntary response, and she gave a strangled moan when he lifted one hand to caress her breast.
“The spaghetti will be here in a few minutes,” Nick muttered against the warm flesh of her neck.
Vanessa laughed even as she tilted her head back in pagan enjoyment of his attentions. “You’re so romantic, DeAngelo.”
He drew away from her very reluctantly and shoved one hand through his hair. “You’d better reserve judgment on that, lady,” he warned.
A sweet tingle went through Vanessa, but she was cool and composed as she arched an eyebrow and queried, “Until when?”
“Until I take you to bed, which will be about sixty seconds after you finish your spaghetti.”
Vanessa looked around. “You have a bed here? This is an office!”
Nick pointed toward a closed door on the other side of the room, but said nothing.
She felt her temper flare. “How convenient,” she said, folding her arms.
Nick sighed, shook his head and grinned at her. “We party animals like to be prepared,” he said.
Vanessa honestly tried, but she couldn’t sustain her anger. She was too tired and she wanted him too badly. “Don’t tease me,” she pleaded.
He touched her nipple and, even through her blouse, it came instantly to attention. “No promises,” he said just as a knock sounded at the door.
The spaghetti had arrived, but there was no wine. Diet cola was served instead and Vanessa, who was seated at the small table in front of the windows, gave Nick a knowing glance while the waiter poured it for her.
“Are you afraid I’ll lose control of myself?” she asked the moment they were alone again.
“Afraid? Hardly,” Nick said, folding his arms and watching as Vanessa ate. “I’m looking forward to it, if you must know.”
Vanessa blushed. She did tend to shed her inhibitions when Nick made love to her. “I’m serious, Nick,” she said.
“So am I,” he replied.
Vanessa tried not to gobble down her spaghetti, but there was no hiding the fact that she was eager to be taken to Nick’s bed and driven beyond her own restraints. He was grinning at her when she dabbed hastily at her mouth with the napkin and shoved her empty plate away.
“Go ahead and—er—get settled. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”
Vanessa was possessed of such virginly shyness all of a sudden that she couldn’t even look at Nick. She picked up her suitcase.
Those few steps toward the door he’d pointed out earlier seemed to take half an hour to execute, and when she was finally out of his view, she sagged with relief.
The room was not as large as his suite on the island, but it was full of Nick’s personality and his scent, and Vanessa felt at home there. With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of a brass bed covered with an old-fashioned patchwork quilt and kicked off her high-heeled shoes. It had been a long day.
In the adjoining bathroom, Vanessa took a hot, hasty shower, then put on tap pants and a camisole. She brushed her teeth and misted herself with cologne, and when she returned to the bedroom Nick was there, waiting for her.
“I missed you so much,” she confessed, her chin at a proud angle.
“And I missed you,” he answered gruffly, making no move to approach her.
Vanessa knew she would have to go to him this time, but now that they were alone and she was ready for him, it didn’t matter. She crossed the shadowy room, which was lit only by the stray glimmers of street lamps outside, and slid her arms around his lean waist.
“Love me, Nick,” she whispered, looking up at him, knowing her whole soul showed in her eyes and not caring. “I’ve been fantasizing about you so much that I’m going to go crazy if you don’t touch me.”
He cupped his strong hands on either side of her head, stroking her satiny cheeks with the edges of his thumbs. After searching her face with his dark, smoldering eyes for several seconds—as though to commit every feature to memory—he bent his head and kissed her.
His seductive kiss was a gentle kind of mastery, and Vanessa swayed as Nick gave her a foretaste of the fiery conquering she knew he would make her earn.
When he finally broke away, it was only to slide her embossed white camisole over her head and toss it into a chair. Her breasts seemed to swell, filling with a nectar meant only for him, as he admired them.
Vanessa’s knees went weak when he reached out to weigh her bounty in one hand, the pad of his thumb preparing the nipple to nurture him. She wanted to lie down and abandon herself to Nick, but he wouldn’t allow that. He put his free arm around her waist to support her, and she bent backward by instinct, silently offering herself.
With a groan, Nick bent to taste the nipple he’d already taught to obey him. His hand moved away, sliding down over Vanessa’s rib-cage to the place where her waist dipped inward to tug at the waistband of her tap pants.
She trembled as she felt the last silken barrier give way, cried out softly when he caressed her. The excitement was building steadily, and Vanessa didn’t want it to be over so soon.
“Stop,” she pleaded, her head bent back as Nick fed greedily at her breast. With his hand he taught her new levels of pleasure. First he beckoned, then he soothed, now he taunted. “Oh, Nick, please—please—I’m going to…” There was a fierce explosion inside Vanessa, and her hips convulsed as Nick extracted every trace of response from her.
She was still gasping for breath, still so bedazzled that she could barely see when he laid her gently on the bed and began taking off his own clothes. When he was naked, Nick joined her.
Although most of the tension had left her body, Vanessa gave herself up gladly to the slow, skillful massage Nick treated her to. She caught the scent of some fragrant oil, felt it seeping into her skin as he applied it with circling motions of his fingertips.
Finally he could no longer restrain himself from her breasts a
nd, with a groan, he found a nipple and drank of Vanessa until she was writhing in need. She asked Nick to take her, but he only turned her onto her stomach and repeated the process with the oil.
Vanessa was in an odd state of mingled excitement and sweet satiety, and the thrumming need inside her increased until she couldn’t wait any longer. She twisted onto her back again and gasped a fevered plea.
Her hands moved over Nick’s chest, his back, his buttocks in a wild, soft urging, and finally, blessedly, his resistance snapped. He took her in a hot, sweeping stroke that made her cry out in welcome and arch her back to receive him as completely as possible.
Her name was a ragged rasp torn from his throat, and though his mouth dipped to hers in an attempt at a kiss, he was too frantic to linger. With a desolate groan, he began quickening his pace by degrees until Vanessa’s hips were rising to meet his.
His magnificent head was tilted back in triumph and surrender as he strained, visibly, to prolong the sweet anguish that consumed them both. Finally with a growl of lust he joined Vanessa in the core of a flaming nova. Even when their bodies parted much later, their souls remained fused together.
Vanessa was the first to recover, and she gave Nick a teasing kiss on the belly before sitting up and moving to slide off the bed.
“Don’t go,” he said, taking her wrist in a painless grasp and holding on.
She allowed him to pull her back down beside him, to kiss and caress her until the treacherous heat was building inside her again. In this second joining, there was no control on either of their parts, no withholding from the other and no teasing. It was fast and it was primitive, and when it was over Vanessa didn’t even try to leave the bed because she couldn’t move.
She awakened in the depths of the night to find herself alone, and an incomprehensible, unfounded dread forced her heart into her throat. “Nick?” she called, getting up and groping for her robe.
She found him in the adjoining office, half dressed and sound asleep in his desk chair.
Full of love and relief, Vanessa went to him and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Nick?” she said again.
He woke with a start and pulled her deftly onto his lap. “Hi,” he greeted her with a rummy yawn.
Vanessa kissed his forehead. “Come back to bed,” she said.
He gave another yawn. “This reminds me of page 72,” he said.
“Page 72?” Vanessa echoed, completely puzzled.
Nick pulled a copy of Parker’s book from underneath a stack of papers and held it two inches from her nose.
Vanessa snatched the volume from his hand and flipped through it until she’d found the page in question. Hot color pooled in her cheeks as she read, and her eyes grew wider with every passing word. She’d forgotten this passage.
“I never did any such thing!” she cried, slamming the book closed and flinging it away.
Nick smiled wickedly. “Are you against trying it?” he teased.
Vanessa laughed, her anger fading. “Wretch,” she said, giving him a quick kiss on the mouth and a push to the chest, both at the same time.
He rose out of the chair, forcing Vanessa to stand, too, and gave her a little shove toward the bedroom.
There, Vanessa undressed Nick after shedding her robe, but there was no more lovemaking that night. They slept, legs and arms entangled, heads touching.
The moment she opened her eyes in the morning, however, all Vanessa’s doubts and fears were back, lined up at the foot of the bed like an invisible army. This time she sent them packing, determined to enjoy her time with Nick. Things were still far from settled between them, and she didn’t want to waste a moment.
He was singing in the shower and she joined him under the spray, although she was nowhere near as brave in the daylight as she had been in darkness.
Nick greeted her with a resounding kiss, then proceeded to lather every inch of her body. The water ran cold long before they came out.
9
Until that day, Vanessa’s impression had been that Nick dabbled at running his restaurants since he obviously didn’t need to earn a living. By noon she knew he worked the same way he made love—with a quiet, thorough steadiness neither hell nor high water could deflect him from.
Watching him fascinated Vanessa, but it also made her restless. She had her own fish to fry, and her thoughts began turning in the direction of Seattle, the Midas Network and the decision being made at WTBE-TV. Leaving Nick in the middle of a loud argument with the chef, she went upstairs where there was privacy and silence and reached for the telephone to punch in the numbers that would cause her answering machine to play back any accumulated messages.
Her eyes widened as she listened. Representatives of six different stations, in that many different cities, had called with requests to “discuss” her career plans. Parker had left word that he’d realized he loved Darla after all and was off to Mexico to be married, and the cleaning lady had imparted that she was going to quit if Vanessa didn’t buy a new vacuum cleaner.
When Nick entered the room a few minutes after the messages had ended, Vanessa was still sitting on the corner of his desk with the receiver in one hand, staring off into space.
He frowned as he hung up the telephone and peered into her eyes. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
Dazed, Vanessa nodded. “Parker is getting married and my housekeeper is going to quit,” she said.
Nick put a hand under her chin. “You can always get another housekeeper,” he said, looking worried.
Vanessa realized that he thought she was shattered by the news of her ex-husband’s remarriage, and she laughed. She wanted to reassure him. “I’m glad Parker is tying the knot, Nick,” she said truthfully. “Now maybe he’ll leave me alone.”
“Your eyes are glazed,” Nick insisted. “If it isn’t unrequited love, what’s making you look like that?”
She told him about the messages from the six television stations. “I have to go home, Nick,” she finished, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders.
He sighed, and while he didn’t seem threatened by her news, he wasn’t pleased, either. “You can call them from here, can’t you?”
She shook her head.
Nick looked toward the window for a few moments, but Vanessa knew he wasn’t seeing the glum weather or the modern skyline. “None of those stations are in Seattle?”
Again, Vanessa shook her head.
He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ve got to stay here until I can replace this chef,” he said reluctantly.
Vanessa felt bereft inside, as though some great chasm had opened between them, and maybe it had. She called the airport and made a reservation on a flight leaving in an hour, then hastily packed her clothes.
Nick offered to see her off, but she declined, needing time and space to think about the future and the unexpected changes it might bring.
Sari greeted her with an annoyed reoooww when she arrived home, but was appeased by an early supper. Vanessa returned the calls on her answering machine in a methodical and professional fashion.
Her appearance on national television, far from ruining her in the broadcasting business as she had feared, had sparked considerable interest among the powers-that-be. By the time she’d placed the last call, she had agreed to six interviews, five of which would take place in Seattle for her convenience.
The sixth, in San Francisco, was scheduled for her day off.
Still in something of a daze, Vanessa took a TV dinner from the freezer and shoved it into the microwave. She was eating breaded fish when the telephone rang.
“Job offers?” Nick asked, without extending a greeting or even identifying himself.
Vanessa sighed. “Interviews,” she corrected. “Did you find a new chef?”
“No,” he snapped, and his tone stung like a hard flick from a rubber band. “Did you find a new cleaning lady? Damn it, Vanessa, for once let’s not evade the issue here. I’m in love with you, and you’re about to be offe
red a job that takes you to another part of the country. It’s half-time, and I’d like to know whether my team is winning or losing.”
Vanessa’s front teeth scraped her lower lip. “One of us could commute,” she said, knowing the idea wasn’t going to please him.
She could see Nick shove his hand through his hair so clearly that she might as well have been standing in the same room with him. “No way,” he ground out.
Vanessa stood up very straight, bracing herself. Nick had been so gentle with her, so understanding, but now he was showing his true colors. Now he was going to be the demanding male, trying to dictate her life-style and the course her career would take.
He really was as arrogant and egotistical as Parker, he was just more subtle about it.
“I guess we don’t have anything more to talk about,” Vanessa said, and it took all her strength not to fall apart right then and there.
“We have everything to talk about,” Nick argued. He sounded calmer, but there was a note of despair in his voice that told Vanessa they weren’t going to be able to work out a compromise this time.
“Goodbye,” she said brokenly, and then she hung up and covered her face with both hands.
For two weeks, Vanessa didn’t see or talk to Nick. She met with the people sent to recruit her for their local newscasts and talk shows and spent the rest of her time selling merchandise over the Midas Network and telling herself that some people just weren’t meant to have it all.
Of the offers she received, the one in San Francisco was the most promising—she would cohost a magazine-style program that had already been optioned for syndication over cable television. Her salary would be twice what she was earning at the Midas Network, and she had always had a special affection for the city by the bay.
Vanessa had chosen not to make any hard and fast decisions until she’d gotten her emotions on a more even keel, and she felt like a tightrope walker with no balance pole.
The day before Thanksgiving, Vanessa’s grandmother called. “Are you absolutely positive you can’t come over for dinner?” she asked plaintively. “It’s been so long since your grampa and I have seen you, and you’ve been looking a little peaky lately. Either that or you shouldn’t wear peach.”
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