Won't You Be My Husband?

“That woman is such a witch!” Lauren exploded. “Granted, she’s a baby one, but what potential!” She gave him an edited account of her recent conversation with Sabrina, leaving out the woman’s prediction that Nick would soon break from the confines of propriety.

He groaned in response to her confession. “You actually told her we were late because we were making love?”

“As good as.”

“Damn, Lauren.”

“I know…I know. It was a terribly childish thing to do.” She shook her head in disbelief that she’d let Sabrina get to her that way. “I don’t know what came over me. I hope you’re not upset.”

To Lauren’s astonishment, the night rang with Nick’s laughter. “Awed by your creativity, maybe, but not upset. Did you really think I would be?”

“I wasn’t sure. I mean, she is the boss’s wife.”

“Yeah, poor guy,” Nick murmured, instantly sobering.

“And I did tell her one heck of a whopper.”

“The lie wasn’t that big.”

“Are you kidding? We haven’t even kissed.”

“We can remedy that easily enough.” Nick surprised Lauren by turning slightly so he could pull her up tight against him. He then brushed his lips over hers in the lightest of touches, just enough to leave her begging for more.

“You call that a kiss?” Lauren heard herself blurt out. It had been too, too long since a man had held her this close. She couldn’t resist prolonging the contact even though no good would come of it.

With a grunt of satisfaction that must have meant no, Nick pressed his mouth to hers again and proceeded to demonstrate exactly what he called a kiss.

Firmly, yet gently, his lips seduced. He teased, he tasted, he tantalized…without words urging Lauren to open her mouth and let him deepen the kiss. She did, then took control—slipping her tongue between his teeth, exploring, savoring.

The thunder of Lauren’s heartbeat drowned the night sounds. Nick’s musky cologne obscured the garden smells. She heard a soft moan—his or hers?—and sighed with regret when he dragged his mouth from hers.

“Woman, you are lethal,” Nick whispered, trailing his lips across her cheek so he could nibble the supersensitive spot just under her earlobe. Lauren shivered in response to the caress.

“Me?” She tipped her head, making it easier for him to nuzzle her neck. “You’re the one who’s lethal, and if I’d had the faintest idea you could kiss like that, I’d have fought Diana for you.”

Nick snorted and raised his head. “Get real. You were only thirteen.”

“Just the right age to learn about the birds and the bees,” Lauren replied. To her surprise, Nick held her away from him.

“Who did teach you about the birds and the bees?”

“Bobby Winfree when I was eighteen.”

“That empty-headed jock?”

Lauren shrugged. “He may have been an intellectual lightweight, but his kisses sure made my heart go pitterpat.”

“And what about my kisses?” Nick asked. “Do they do anything to your heart?”

“What is this, true confessions?”

“I was just curious.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ll tell you what your kisses do to my heart after you tell me what mine do to yours.”

“It’s interesting you should mention that, because my heart is acting really weird right now.”

“What do you mean ‘really weird’?” At once all business, Dr. West pressed her palm to Nick’s chest. She tensed, then remembered and bubbled with laughter. “That’s not your heart, Nick. That’s my pager. It vibrates when I’m getting a call.”

With a grin that admitted he knew that already, Nick placed his hand over hers and pinned it against his shirt pocket. “I’m not letting you answer that, until I have your promise we can finish our cardiac comparison later.”

“Trust me when I tell you the mood won’t be the same,” Lauren murmured with disgust. How many times had that stupid pager interrupted a tender moment during the last few years of med school, residency and practice? Hundreds? No, more like thousands…at least it felt that way sometimes.

“Nick? Lauren?” It was Phillip, standing at the French doors. “Sabrina tells me that dinner is ready.”

“We were just coming in. Lauren’s been paged.” Nick got to his feet and tugged Lauren to hers. “Only a couple of hours more and this night will be over,” he whispered.

And when it ends, so will our engagement, Lauren silently answered, not a bit surprised to find herself despondent at the thought. Nick wasn’t the only one who’d felt restless of late. So had she, if the oft-verbalized concern of her co-workers was anything to go by.

But running into Nick at the stadium had changed all that. Suddenly energized and loving it, she could not bear to think what would happen once he exited her life again.

Lauren took care of the page with one quick phone call, and the four of them soon made their way to the dining room where waited a table set with delicate china and crystal. Wishing for pepperoni pizza and a cold beer, Nick assisted Lauren into her chair, then sat across the table from her.

Halfway through Sabrina Avery’s exotic meal, Nick discovered just how much his and Lauren’s garden escapade was going to cost him in peace of mind and body. He found himself eating automatically, one ear tuned to the conversation of his host, all his other senses focused on Lauren, smiling demurely at him from time to time.

He heard her easy laugh, felt when she crossed her long legs and accidentally nudged him, smelled her cologne. As for taste, even the highly spiced entree did not obliterate his memory of the flavor that was so distinctly Lauren. His whole body felt charged up and ready—some parts more than others—and he squirmed in his chair like a little kid anxiously awaiting the dessert.

Thus distracted, he had little to say the rest of the evening, but if Phillip noticed, he did not comment. As for Sabrina, she said maybe three words all during dinner and after. Finally at ten-thirty Nick and Lauren murmured their thank-yous and goodbyes and escaped to the car.

“Am I to understand that the whole reason for this dinner tonight was so Phillip Avery could hint he would sponsor you, should one of the partners at Avery, Sanders and Wright decide to retire?” Lauren asked, once they were safely away. She had already taken off a shoe and was rubbing her foot as if it were hurting, a task for which Nick wished he could volunteer.

“Looks that way,” he said, glancing over at her every time they passed under a streetlight. “Retirement rumors have been circulating around the office for months now, though no one has a clue which partner is retiring or who will be invited to replace him. I think this dinner tonight is Avery’s way of saying he’s sticking around and wants me in management.”

“Why, that would be fantastic!” Lauren exclaimed, the next instant adding, “Wouldn’t it?” in a voice so uncertain Nick knew she must have picked up on his mood. It was oddly flat, considering partnership in the architectural firm had been a dream of his for years.

“Yeah, sure.” To change the subject, he said, “Would a kiss make that better?”

“Would a…? Oh. My foot.” She shook her head and slipped her shoe back on. “Doctor that I am, I can say with complete authority that it would not. A Band-Aid would do wonders, though.”

“I have a whole tin of them at my place. Fluorescent ones. Want to take a detour and stop by there?”

For a moment Lauren didn’t answer, then she turned slightly in the bucket seat as though to better see him, not easy since the streetlights had begun to thin. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been invited to your place to look at some etchings?”

“Because you have?”

Lauren sighed. “Nick, there’s something I have to tell you—”

“’No thanks’?” So the party was already over. Though disappointed, Nick wasn’t surprised. He’d known it wouldn’t take long for Beauty to tire of the Beast and honestly hadn’t planned beyond tonight. “I understand, Lauren. I know I’m not your type, and I had no business even suggesting that we…um…get to know each other again.”