Only Forever. Linda Lael Miller
devoutly wished that she’d stayed home. She wasn’t ready for an emotional involvement, but it seemed to be happening anyway, without her say-so. She was as helpless as a swimmer going down for the third time. In desperation, she clasped on to the similarities between Parker and Nick.
They were both attractive, although Vanessa had to admit that Parker’s looks had never affected her in quite the same way that Nick’s were doing now. They were both jocks, and, if the press could be believed, Nick, like Parker, was a veritable legend among the bimbos of the world.
Vanessa felt better and, conversely, worse. She lifted her chin and said, “I don’t think a jock—I mean, professional athlete ever gets the road completely out of his blood.”
Nick sat back in his chair. His look said he could read her as clearly as a floodlighted billboard. “Maybe it’s like selling electric foot massagers on television,” he speculated smoothly. “I don’t see how a person could ever put a thrill like that behind them.”
Vanessa squirmed. How typically male; he knew she was responding to him, and now he meant to make fun of her. “I’m not ashamed of what I do for a living, Mr. DeAngelo,” she said.
Nick bent toward her and, in that moment, it was as though the two of them were alone at the table—indeed, alone in the restaurant. “Neither am I, Ms. Lawrence,” he replied.
A crackling silence followed, which was finally broken by Paul’s diplomatic throat clearing and he said, “Vanessa hopes to anchor one of the local news shows at some point.”
Vanessa winced, sure that Nick would be amused at such a lofty ambition. Instead he merely nodded.
Dinner that night was delicious, although Vanessa was never able to recall exactly what it was, for she spent every minute longing to run for cover. After the meal, the foursome drifted from the dining room to the crowded cocktail lounge, where a quartet was playing soft music. Vanessa found herself held alarmingly close to Nick as they danced.
He lifted her chin with a curved finger and spoke in a velvety rasp. “Your eyes are the size of satellite dishes. Do I scare you that much?”
Vanessa stiffened. The man certainly had an ego. “You don’t scare me at all,” she lied. “It’s only that I’m—I’m tired.”
He smiled, and the warmth threatened to melt her like a wax statue. “You were married to Parker Lawrence, weren’t you?”
Suddenly it was too hot in the place; Vanessa felt as though she’d suffocate if she couldn’t get some fresh air. “Yes,” she answered, flustered, searching for an avenue of escape.
True to form, Nick read her thoughts precisely. “This way,” he said, and, taking Vanessa by the hand, he led her off the dance floor, down a hallway and into a large, tastefully furnished office. She was about to protest when she realized there was a terrace beyond the French doors on the far side of the room.
The autumn night was chilly, but Vanessa didn’t mind. The crisp air cleared her head, and she felt better immediately.
The sky was like a great black tent, pierced through in a million places by tiny specks of silver light, and the view of downtown Seattle and the harbor was spectacular. Vanessa rested her folded arms against the stone railing and drew a deep, delicious breath.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, smiling.
Nick was beside her, gazing at the city lights and moonlit water spread out below them. “I never get tired of it,” he said quietly. “The only drawback is that you can’t see the Space Needle from here.”
Vanessa shivered as an icy breeze swept off the water, and Nick immediately draped his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders. She thanked him shyly with a look, and asked, “Have you lived in Seattle all your life?”
He nodded. “I was born here.”
Vanessa marveled that she could be so comfortable with Nick on the terrace when she’d felt threatened inside the restaurant. She sighed. “I grew up in Spokane, but I guess I’m starting to feel at home.”
“Just starting?” He arched a dark eyebrow.
Vanessa shrugged. “Seattle is Parker’s home-town, not mine.” Too late she realized she’d made a mistake, reopening a part of her life she preferred to keep private.
Nick leaned against the terrace and gazed at the circus of lights below. “I’ve been married before, too,” he confided quietly. “Her name was Jenna.”
Vanessa was practically holding her breath. It was incomprehensible that his answer should mean so much, but it did. “What happened?”
“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