As Vanessa and Beatrice continued to reminisce, Nic watched Annie. She was fascinated by her mother’s stories, her expression rapt.
“And there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you or Andrea, for that matter.”
Beatrice nodded. “No, there wasn’t. My parents came to realize that, finally.”
“Nanny and Granddad didn’t like Daddy?” Annie’s voice was hesitant. “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, they weren’t at all pleased that Bee married your father.” Vanessa waved a hand in the air. “They thought he was reckless and would ruin her standing in society. But I’d never seen two people more in love. Even as young as they were, they knew what they wanted and they convinced everyone else that it was the best for them. And after you came along, they simply packed you up and took you along. You were the most well-traveled child I’d ever met. You spoke Portuguese like a pro when you were four. Do you remember?”
Annie nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I still speak some, enough to get along.”
“Andrea, you’re selling yourself short,” her mother cut in. “She also speaks Spanish, Chinese, Japanese and French.”
Annie huffed, but the look she gave her mother was amused. “I know enough French to find a restroom in Paris.”
Nic had known she could speak Spanish but not the others. What else didn’t he know about Annie?
Beatrice surprised him by turning to him. “And I know you speak Italian, Dominic. Your mother told me you spent some time with your uncle at the vineyards.”
Nic nodded slowly. He’d retreated there—okay, hidden there for five months after he’d left the army. “Yeah. I’m not fluent, but I can get the jist of things.”
He was saved from answering any more questions by the arrival of the maid, announcing that dinner would be served in five minutes.
“Speaking of the vineyards, I thought you could choose the wine for us tonight.” Beatrice turned to him. “Your parents sent an assorted case as a Christmas present last year and I was hoping you would help me select one for tonight’s meal.”
Well, the night was just full of surprises. He hadn’t known his parents were so friendly with Beatrice.
With a quick glance at Annie, who looked as surprised as he felt, he followed Beatrice out of the room and into the basement where five full racks of wine stood in a small climate-controlled room.
After a short discussion of the menu, Beatrice stepped back so Nic could examine the bottles.
“You do know my daughter is in love with you, so I’m not going to waste time with that.”
Nic nearly dropped bottle in his hand and his gaze shot to Beatrice’s, whose smile had a faint wryness to it as she continued.
“I also know you broke her heart in college and, at the time, I was thankful.” Beatrice stopped, her smile poignant. “She seemed so young but, in reality, she was the same age I’d been when I met her father. Do you love my daughter, Dominic?”
He didn’t answer right away. What the hell did she want him to say? He didn’t have a clue as she stared at him with no condemnation in her eyes. So he told the truth.
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been in love with her for years.”
Beatrice’s smile returned, shocking the hell out of him. “Then I’d just like to say how very highly I think of you. Your parents have been two of the best friends I’ve ever had. Andrea and I haven’t always been as close as I’d have liked, and that’s mostly my fault.” She frowned then tried to shake it off. “When I lost my husband, I was inconsolable for months. Some could argue it was years. We were inseparable, the three of us, and losing Theo cut out a part of our hearts. Andrea took it as hard as I did and, for a while, I’m sure she felt she’d lost both parents. I literally couldn’t function. Luckily, my parents were here to care for us and shortly after Theo’s death, Andrea met your sister.”
His mind flashed back to the first time he’d met Annie. She’d been twelve and so polite, so stiff, he hadn’t understood why Janey had made friends with her. Until he’d looked into Annie’s eyes and seen the despair. He’d been twenty-two, already a Ranger for two years and cynical as hell, but he’d wanted to comfort the girl and make everything better. For years, he’d come home on leave and there’d be Annie, always underfoot in his parents’ home. He knew she’d had a crush on him, but he’d never encouraged her, never treated her as anything other than another sister.
“I want you to know, I never took advantage of Annie. I never thought—”
Beatrice laughed at that. “I have no doubt you were a perfect gentleman. If you hadn’t been, if you had taken advantage of my daughter, I would have known. And your father would have taken you to task for it. But she’s no longer a teenager. And now, I think we’d better return or Andrea will come looking for us. Did you decide on a bottle?”
He nodded and gave the wines a cursory look before pulling out one of his favorites. Then he followed Beatrice back up the stairs, shaking his head.
***
“Andrea, could you help me with dessert, please, dear?”
Okay, here it comes. The inquisition.
As she followed her mother to the kitchen, Annie straightened her spine. She’d been waiting for this all night. She refused to cave to her mother’s subtle yet persistent meddling, though she was dying to know what her mom had said to Nic in the wine cellar. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to know. He’d said nothing when they’d returned and he hadn’t seemed to be in a bad mood. But they’d been gone so long…
The swinging door to the kitchen closed behind them and Beatrice moved to the counter and the cake sitting there.
“Mother, what did you and Nic talk about?”
“I hope no one’s allergic to chocolate. Does Dominic like chocolate?”
“Yes, he does, but, Mom—”
Beatrice looked straight into her eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Annie frowned. “What? Chocolate cake?” A split second later, she realized that wasn’t what her mother was asking. “Oh. Mom, I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.” Her mother picked up the cake and put it on the wooden tray they’d bought in Bali nearly twenty years ago. “I know you think I’m completely clueless about your life, but you are my daughter. Do you ever wonder why I never remarried?”
Annie couldn’t wrap her mind around the constant twists of her mother’s conversation. She shook her head. “No. Mom—”
“Your father was the love of my life. He was the most handsome and the most exciting man I’d ever met. We were young, rich and in love. We had the whole world. And when you came along, we had the sun and the moon, too. After your father died, I wanted to die, as well. But I had you.”
Beatrice smiled, her gaze warm. “And I was so afraid I would lose you, too. You’ve led such a cautious life since your dad died, and I know that’s not what he would have wanted for you. I’m so proud of you, just the way you are, Andrea. I know I don’t express that often or well, but I am.”
Annie was sure she had the most bemused expression on her face, but she couldn’t seem to wrap her brain around her mother’s meaning.
But her mother’s next words cleared it all up for her.
“Sweetheart, if you love the man, don’t let him get away. Now, bring those plates, please. Our guests will be wondering where we are.”
***
“Well, that was interesting.” Annie dropped her purse on the chair by her front door. “I think I need something stronger than wine. You want a drink?”
Nic nodded as he closed the door behind him, locked it and engaged the security system, but she could tell he wasn’t really listening.
“How about we change first,” he said. “Then we’ll both get a drink.”
He sounded distracted, as if he had something on his mind. He’d been giving her the most interesting looks since he’d gone to choose the wine with her mother.
Her mother must have said something to him but what that might have been, Annie
didn’t have a clue. She’d never expected her mother to say anything like what she’d said to her tonight.
Had her mom somehow guessed how they’d spent the hours leading up to her little dinner party?
Annie flushed at the thought and, of course, Nic turned at that moment to look at her.
“Did you know your mom is a good friend of my parents?”
That was so not what she was expecting, her mouth dropped open before she could stop it. “What?”
Nic smiled and took her arm, leading her upstairs. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. Apparently, they’re pretty close.”
Annie thought about that as Nic guided her into her room and left her standing by the bed as he drew the window shades. “I know she’s been invited to dinner at your parents’ over the years, but I always thought that was more a courtesy on their part because of my friendship with Janey.”
Nic walked over to stand behind her. In the full-length mirror in front of her, she saw his contemplative expression. “Do you and your mom get along?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze. “As well as mothers and daughters do, I guess. Not as well as your mom and Janey.”
He unzipped her dress and Annie’s heart raced. “Why is that?”
Was he trying to distract her from the fact that he was undressing her? He wasn’t doing such a good job of it as he pushed the dress off her shoulders. Looking up again, she watched the sway of his hair on his shoulder and wanted to reach up to push it behind his ears.
“Tell me about your dad, Annie.” Unzipping the dress the rest of the way, she watched his hands push it off her hips. “You don’t talk about him much.”
Arousal, always on simmer around Nic, and the dull ache in her chest whenever she thought of her father created complete confusion. So she talked.
“It was the worst thing in my life, losing him.” She automatically stepped out of the dress when it slid to her ankles. “We were always together, the three of us, always off on some adventure.”
Nic moved away, sat on her bed and leaned back, staring at her as she bent to pick up her dress and hang it in the closet.
“We traveled a lot when I was a kid, too,” Nic said. “I loved South America.”
Without thinking, she started to roll down her stockings and kick off her pumps. “I can see you soaking up the heat down there. Italy is one of my favorite places too. The ruins, the feel of antiquity in the air, the streets that’ve been there for centuries.”
Reaching for her bra, she realized what she was doing the second before she undid it. She paused, trying to read his expression. “You are going to stay here tonight, aren’t you? In my bed, with me.”
She didn’t phrase it as a question and Nic’s ghost of a smile and the heat in his eyes was answer enough. But his voice made inner muscles clench in reaction.
“Yeah. I’m staying.”
He levered off the bed and stood in front of her. No longer in heels, she felt dwarfed by him, engulfed in heat and drowning in sensation. But he didn’t lean down to kiss her, like she wanted him to.
“But I’ve got to do some work tonight. So do me a favor and put on something that won’t make me crazy, okay? I’m gonna get changed.”
Then he left the room, leaving her standing with her mouth hanging open.
She knew he’d brought a bag with him but he’d put it in her guest room. Did he intend to sleep there? Not if she had any say in the matter.
Five minutes later, she hurried downstairs to find Nic on her couch, laptop open beside him, two piles of paper on her coffee table. He looked up at her approach and nerves struck her hard. This seemed way too much like getting everything she’d ever wanted. Nic in her home, relaxed and comfortable in maroon sweat shorts and a loose black t-shirt, looking at her just like that and knowing he was going to go to bed with her. God, she hoped she wasn’t dreaming.
She’d followed his orders. Mostly. She’d changed into a comfortable pair of gray yoga pants but she’d slipped on a pretty pink camisole and barely covered that with a sheer silk night shirt, mostly unbuttoned and gaping open.
He stood as she walked down the stairs and she thought he might walk to her and kiss her, but instead he said, “I need a beer. You want something to drink?”
“Yes, please. No beer, though. I’ll take a fuzzy navel.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled a bottle of beer from the back of her fridge and grabbed the orange juice. Then he filled a glass with crushed ice from the fridge door, pulled peach schnapps from the cabinet over the sink and mixed her drink.
“How do you drink that stuff?” he asked when they were seated at opposite ends of the couch, not touching. “It’s like mainlining sugar.”
“I like sweet things. I got a taste for these a couple of years ago. Besides they taste great with chocolate.”
Nic shook his head and swigged from his bottle, not reaching for the papers on the table, as she thought he would. “Let me guess, you’ve got a taste for amaretto as well.”
She smiled as a memory of her father flitted through her brain. “Daddy loved amaretto. He used to let me have a splash of it with a little soda before bed sometimes. It went great with Oreos. My parents used to send for them from the states wherever we went.”
“Sounds like your parents were happy.”
“I never doubted that.” She remembered the conversation she’d had with her mom earlier tonight. “I just felt like, after he died, my mom wished she could’ve died with him, like she didn’t care if she left me.”
“It’s hard to be in love with someone and not be with them.”
The words took her breath away, but she nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from his as he spoke.
“My parents have that same kind of relationship. I’ve never doubted that they love me and Jimmy and Janey. But that bond between them is practically visible.”
“How is your dad, Nic? I know he told us everything went fine with the operation. It’s just so scary, though, to think something might happen to him.”
Something flashed through Nic’s eyes. Fear, apprehension, relief? She wasn’t sure.
“He’s fine. He’s been following the doctor’s orders and cutting back on cases.”
“I know he hates being sidelined like this. He always seemed to be doing something. Your parents tell the greatest stories about their time in the military. But you must have lived through some of it. When did you find out what they did for a living?”
Nic smiled and her heart flipped over. “I was nine and we were somewhere in South America, Ecuador maybe. Anyway, my mom wasn’t pregnant with Jane yet. She and dad sat me down and I thought for sure they’d figured out I was the one who’d put the smoke bomb in the teachers’ lavatory at this fancy school I hated. Instead, they told me what they were, how they trusted me not to tell anyone, and that they knew it was a big responsibility but they knew I could handle it. They made me swear not to tell Jimmy, which wasn’t a big deal ’cause he always had his nose in some book or was working on, hell, I don’t know, molecular physics. If I wasn’t around, he’d probably have blown himself up a couple of times.”
Annie could visualize Nic at nine, watching over Jimmy like a hawk, idolizing his parents and their work.
“Then Janey came along and I had another kid to take care of. She was such a good baby. She woke up with a smile, went to bed without whimpering and only cried when she was hungry. After Janey, we didn’t travel as much, spent a few years in Bolivia, a couple in Argentina, a few more in Europe—Germany, mostly.”
“When did you meet Nino?”
Nic didn’t answer and she wanted to take back the words immediately.
He looked at the laptop, at the beer in his hand, at the papers on the table. And just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he did.
“We were in Philadelphia for a visit when I was sixteen. Nino and I hit it off right away. We were pretty set on what we were going to do with our lives and it just happened
that we were both set on being Rangers. I spent my senior year of high school living with Nino’s family while my mom and dad wrapped up their military careers in Washington. Nino and I signed up the week after graduation.”
“I don’t think I ever knew that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
She paused again then forced herself to ask the question, since they were revealing so much of themselves tonight.
“Will you tell me about Nino? Will you tell me how he died?”
CHAPTER 13
Nic had been expecting the question. He’d figured it was inevitable.
It still hurt like hell, even now. And it brought with it a whole range of feelings that twined around his guts and squeezed.
He took a deep breath and forced the words out through clenched teeth. “I screwed up and Nino got killed.”
“Nic. Please.”
It was her tone of voice rather than the words that got to him. She hurt, but not selfishly. She hurt for him.
“I don’t remember a lot.” He held out a hand before she could speak. “It’s the truth. It happens sometimes. There’s so much going on and it’s loud, and people are shooting at you. Jesus, it was hot as hell.” Oppressive heat, like a thick wool blanket over his skin. “We were trying to get out of the city and Johnny Whitner got hit. I jumped off the truck, tried to drag him back, but I got hit. Nino came out after us.”
He remembered yelling at Nino to go back to the truck. He hadn’t realized how bad his injury was then. It burned like hell, but he didn’t know the bullet had blasted through his spleen and out the back. He didn’t remember getting hit but he did remember the pain. He dragged a hand over his forehead, slick with sweat.
“He got John back to the truck first. I told him I could get back myself. God damn it, I told him I’d be okay. But he didn’t listen. He came back.” Nic stood, couldn’t sit, wanted to stop but couldn’t. Words kept pouring out of his mouth. “We were almost to the truck. I heard the shot. I heard it, but I didn’t think… I didn’t—”
He had to stop, couldn’t catch his breath. He kept seeing Nino fall.
Spice Box; Sixteen Steamy Stories Page 128
