Only Forever

“She left me,” Nick replied without looking at Vanessa.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa said, and she was sincere because she knew how much it hurt when a marriage died, whether a person was left or did the leaving. “A lot of women can’t handle living with a professional athlete,” she added, and although she’d meant the words as a consolation, she immediately wished she could take them back.

“Jenna bailed out before I got into the pros,” Nick said in tones as cool as the wind rising off the water. “When I started making big bucks, she wanted to try again.”

Before Vanessa could make any kind of response to that, Nick put an arm around her waist and ushered her back inside. She lifted the tuxedo jacket from her shoulders while he closed the French doors that led out onto the terrace.

“Did you love Jenna?” she asked, and the words were the most involuntary ones she’d ever spoken.

Nick’s expression was unreadable. “Did you love Parker?” he countered.

Vanessa bit her lower lip. “I honestly don’t know,” she answered after a few moments of thought. “I was in college when I met him, and he was already breaking records in baseball. I’d never met anyone like him before. He was—overwhelming.”

Nick grinned somewhat sadly and leaned back against the edge of his desk, his arms folded. “I’d like to know you better,” he said.

Vanessa was aware that such straightforwardness was rare in a man, and she was impressed. She was also terrified by the powerful things this man was making her feel. She placed his jacket carefully over the back of a chair, searching her mind for a refusal that would not be rude or hurtful.

She was unprepared for Nick’s sudden appearance at her side, and for the way he gently lifted her chin in his hand and said, “It’s time to let go of the pain and move on, Vanessa.”

The low, rumbling words, spoken so close to her mouth, made her lips tingle with a strange sense of anticipation. When Nick kissed her, she swayed slightly, stricken by a sweet malaise that robbed her of all balance.

Nick was holding her upright, though whether by means of the kiss or his gentle grasp on her waist, Vanessa couldn’t be sure. She knew only that she was responding to him with her whole being, that she’d let him take her then and there if he pressed her. Being so vulnerable when she’d been so badly hurt before was almost more than she could bear.

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.