“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 too?”
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.
Well, of course. She could have slapped herself on the forehead. Her mother must have said something to him. 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 mother 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 mother is good friends with 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. “Well, 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 back to stand in front of her, wearing a 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 started unbuttoning her blouse and Annie’s heart raced as she watched his long fingers work. “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 her blouse over her shoulders. Looking up, she watched the sway of his hair on his shoulder and reached up to push the silky strands behind his ears.
“Tell me about your dad, Annie.” Done with the buttons, he pushed the shirt off her shoulders and started on her skirt. “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 skirt when it slid to her ankles. “We were always together, the three of us, always off on some adventure.”
Nic sat on her bed and leaned back, staring at her. “We traveled a lot when I was a kid, too. I also loved South America.”
Without thinking, she rolled down her stockings. “Yeah, I can see you soaking up the heat down there. I loved Italy, the ruins, the feel of antiquity in the air, the streets that have 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, 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 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.”
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. 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 be going 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, 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 Oreo cookies. 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 have 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 bombs 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 could have bitten her tongue.
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. 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 Ten
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 put 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.” He could still remember the oppressive heat, feel it 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.” He 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.
“I picked him up and dragged him to the truck. You know the rest.”
But she didn’t. The rest of that night had been hell. Nino hadn’t died right away. He’d made Nic promise to take care of Mags and Toni. Had made him memorize a message to his parents. Then he’d closed his eyes and died.
Slim arms wrapped around his waist from behind. “You would have done the same for him.”
Nic snorted. Everyone had said the same after Nino died. So what if it was true.
“Yeah, but I didn’t have a wife and baby at home waiting for me.”
“Then maybe Nino shouldn’t have been there at all.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not right, either. He was a good soldier. God damn, so was I. And that day I lost Nino and my career. It should have been me. It was my fault.”
He heard tears in Annie’s voice. “No, Nic. The man who shot Nino killed him. Not you. Are you sorry you’re here, with me?”
Startled, he turned, grabbing her arms so she couldn’t move away then banding his around her. “What? Hell, no. Annie—”