Leave Yesterday Behind (13 page)

She shook her head. “I’m unhappy every single day I wake up, but I don’t know how to change things.”

Nick wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

Chapter 18

Nick’s lips met Callie’s. As they touched, he inhaled the honeysuckle scent clinging to her skin that had nearly driven him crazy as he shared her dessert. He hadn’t remembered one bite that went into his mouth—only the constant shoveling motion he’d made in an effort not to lick the honeysuckle from her neck.

He sensed her stiffen for a moment, her neck and mouth rigid beneath his fingers and lips. Then a quick hitch of her breath occurred, and suddenly she relaxed.

It was invitation enough.

He pulled her closer, his left arm closing around her waist and drawing her nearer to him. The bucket seats made it a little awkward, but Nick refused to let a little thing like car dynamics stop him as he unbuckled her seat belt and slid his seat back without missing a beat.

He gently rubbed his lips across hers, thrilled when a little moan escaped from her. Her lips parted slightly, and he urged her to open more to him.

Oh, God. She tasted sweeter than she smelled. As good as he’d imagined last night as thoughts of doing this very thing kept him awake till just before dawn. No, reality was better. Way better.

Nick stroked her neck, urging her even closer as he explored her sweetness. A hunger rose in him unlike any before. He wanted more of her, now, to be inside her, stroking the entire length of her, crushing her beneath him, drawing close together till they were one.

His hands dropped to her waist. He lifted her over into his lap, setting her back against the driver’s door. He buried his lips against her throat. The scent of honeysuckle surrounded him, swirling around him. He tugged the elastic band from her hair and tossed it out the window, pushing his hands into her honeyed waves.

Nick found her lips again, hungrily taking from her warmth. His heart beat fast, joining hers in a rapid tango. He slipped her top button through its slit as he trailed kisses down her throat.

She wasn’t afraid.

That was Callie’s first thought, blindsiding her. She had lived with fear for months now, practically afraid of her own skinny shadow, not to mention jumping like a startled rabbit when she turned on the TV or radio and heard a male voice come into the room.

But this was different. Nick was different. His mouth on hers, his body pressed close to her, only made her feel safe. Secure.

And turned on. Big time.

She shivered as his lips nibbled down the long column of her throat. A good shiver. Actually, a great shiver, in her opinion. She’d felt little sexual pings with men she’d dated in the past. Little tingles and vibes that made things pleasant for her.

But this . . .

She sighed again, a heated throb taking possession of her. Another moan escaped her lips. God, she was not the moaning type. She never had been.

Till now.

“Oh . . .” She couldn’t help it. Another whimper popped out. She sounded like some ingénue being ravished by a wealthy tycoon, cameras rolling, getting it all down on tape. And yet she went with the emotion, the roller coaster dizziness that invaded her as much as Nick’s masculine scent filled her.

His mouth found hers again, demanding, controlling, pushing her for more. Callie clung to him like a drowning victim did her rescuer, afraid to let go. Afraid he would let her go. She pushed her hands into his coal black hair, snuggling as close as she could get to him.

His hand found her breast and palmed it. She could feel it swelling to fit his hand. Slowly, Nick dragged a thumb across her nipple, back and forth, the teasing motion stealing her breath as much as his drugging kiss. She could no longer think coherently.

He slid another two buttons open and slipped his hand inside her shirt. He pulled his mouth from hers and looked down. He eased open the front clasp of her bra. She needed him to touch her warmth.

But as he peeled back the material, she came to her senses.

“No!” exploded from her lips. He couldn’t see those hideous scars. She wouldn’t let him see her greatest shame. All the warm, rich feelings fled as she frantically pushed against him.

She began twisting, scrambling to get away. She shoved at him, kneeing him viciously in the process as she climbed back into her seat and threw the passenger door open.

A loud expletive shook the night as he fired it in her direction. She glanced back and witnessed him doubled over in pain, not able to jump out of the car and grab onto her. She hurried unsteadily back up the drive, re-hooking her bra and struggling to button her blouse as she went.

As she turned the corner, she heard him yell, “What the hell just happened?”

Her nervous fingers tried three times before the last button slid into place. She rounded another corner and slowed, realizing that Nick was in no shape to follow her.

She drew a cleansing breath and ran her fingers through her mussed hair, catching his scent on her skin as she did so. She smoothed her hair back in place as best she could and started up the porch steps, hoping it was late enough for Aunt C and Essie to have retired for the night. As always, one of them had left the porch light on for her, much as they had back in her high school dating days.

As she tried to turn the unyielding knob of the front door in her hands, it hit her.

“Dammit, you idiot ballplayer. The stupid door’s locked.” She remembered how he’d gone back to secure it after she’d come out onto the porch hours earlier.

Her purse was still in his car. And she’d sooner be a pig on a roasting spit than go back now and get it. Not that he could stop her. Callie realized just how aroused Nick had been and how her sudden departure probably left him incapacitated for more than a few minutes. Not that she’d done it on purpose. She’d freaked out without warning.

But she had to get out. Before things went too far.

Before he saw her scars. Before he saw how ugly she’d become.

Tears welled in her eyes as she leaned against the door. She never really wanted a man before. Not like that. Oh, sure, she’d felt the sexual pull when things heated up between her and a guy. And when it led to sex, it had felt fine. Nothing like the rocket’s red glare and bombs bursting in the air, but it was pretty darn okay.

Yet what had happened in that fiery red convertible was like nothing she’d ever been a party to. Just one kiss, and she’d been a goner. It was as if she were a racecar engine and Nick the driver that knew just how to pamper her to get her motor revving at optimum levels. Every touch, ever kiss, lit a fire within her that even now caused her blood to pulse like an Indy 500 car.

What had that been about?

And they weren’t even friends. They didn’t really like each other. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. They had revealed an awful lot to one another in a few encounters. She still didn’t get that. The way they communicated, it was almost if they’d always known each other.

He definitely intrigued the hell out of her. He was talented and smart and doing something that most people talked about and never acted upon. She’d heard it said that everyone had one book in him, but few ever took the time to get it down on paper. Even less did and found it was good, much less publishable. And here Nick had several best sellers to his credit. He seemed to be heading to the pinnacle of his profession. His second profession. He’d already had enormous success in his first.

Callie had done exactly what she guessed Nick had done. She’d Googled him earlier that afternoon before she napped. She gleaned enough information from the articles she’d read to understand that he hadn’t just been a paid professional, but he’d been the best on a consistently good team. Cream of the crop, MVP-good.

Even the stuff she’d located on his short career in broadcasting raved about his smooth analytical style, how he could get to the heart of what was going on and interpret the innuendoes of the game succinctly and easily for the viewing audience. It was a major disappointment when he’d vacated his seat in the booth at ESPN mid-season.

Only to vanish. At least to the world it seemed that way. Callie realized he’d slipped into the world of Nick Van Sandt and his myriad of characters.

They weren’t friends yet, but they might be. He had the intellect she appreciated and a sly sense of humor, to boot. Of course, the fact that she leaped out of his car, damaging both his ego and his groin without a word of explanation, might affect the becoming friends part.

As well as the more. Becoming more.

She blew a deep breath out. Wow. If the man kissed like there was no tomorrow, what would it be like to be more intimate with him? It pained her to know that she’d probably never know now. It was for the best, though.

In fact, Nick had done something amazing for her. He’d freed her from her irrational fears. All the anxiety she’d experienced seemed to have melted into thin air. A surge of confidence permeated her. She even seemed to be standing a bit taller.

She’d been right to come home to Aurora.

Yet now she wanted to run back to New York, her tail tucked between her legs. She was too chicken to face Nick after what had happened. After all, she’d never planned on staying in Aurora permanently. And Aurora was where he’d planted roots.

As she pushed away from the door and walked down the porch steps, she knew she was lying to herself. She had wanted to stay in Aurora indefinitely. She still wanted to see Nick. Desperately. She just didn’t trust what would happen when she did.

Callie leaned around the house cautiously. No Nick in sight. He’d probably stumbled into his cottage and had an ice pack strategically placed right about now. She walked down the long drive, hoping he’d been too absorbed to notice she’d left her purse on the floorboard of his car. She would retrieve it and her keys, sneak in through the kitchen door, and no one would be the wiser.

Callie went to the passenger side and leaned into the car, not wanting to open the door and then have to shut it.

Her purse wasn’t there.

Shit.

“Looking for this?” a familiar voice said over her shoulder.

She whirled around. “How did you sneak up on me?” she huffed. “I have excellent hearing.”

He held up her purse. “I played army men and spies and all kinds of fun games growing up. I was the quietest Indian on my block. I’d even slink into the kitchen and filch hot cookies while Mom’s back was turned. She was certain I would make an excellent jewel thief or cat burglar one day.”

She reached for her purse, but Nick held it just out of her grasp. “Thanks to you, Safety Boy, I’m locked out, so if you’d do me the courtesy of returning my purse?” She gave him her haughtiest Jessica glare, one that even caused the crew to give her a wide berth.

Nick looked back over his shoulder at the main house. “Knowing Miz C, I’m sure you could’ve found a way to get in. I stay on her all the time about locking her doors and her windows.”

Callie sniffed. “I still need my purse. So if you’d hand it over?” Her impatience grew. She found she had to turn away. The questions in those midnight blue eyes were ones she didn’t want to answer.

“Callie?” His voice was whisper soft. She faced back reluctantly.

“I can’t,” she said, a lump forming in her throat. She bit her lip hard, trying to stop the tremble that threatened to take over her entire body.

“Come here.” He dropped the purse onto the ground and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his broad chest, her fingers bunching his shirtfront tightly.

“It’s okay.” He held her close, his arms encompassing her in a protective embrace. His gentle tone was more than she could bear. The sobs came in wild tremors. She clung to him and the solace his arms offered.

She babbled incoherently between sobs, but Nick didn’t think what she said was important. Or if it was, she’d tell him when she needed him to know.

He’d figured it out before he made it to his doorstep. He felt like a moron. He’d watched her move, a little hesitantly at times. He’d poured over the news reports online. He knew how viciously she’d been attacked and how many stab wounds had been stitched up. Hell, she still had a nurse with her that put her through a rehab program on a daily basis.

“. . . Couldn’t . . . couldn’t let you . . . see . . .”

He finished it for her. “Couldn’t let me see your scars?”

Her head popped up, a wild look in her watery eyes. “Yes,” she hissed. She pushed hard against his chest and stepped away from him, crossing her arms protectively over her middle. Nick watched the hard set of her mouth, her chin tilting slightly up, daring him to say more.

Which, of course, he did.

“What do you think happened between us, Callie?”

In response, she turned her back to him and scooped her purse up, slinging it over her shoulder. But she rose gingerly, and he knew she was hurting as she took a few steps away from him.

“Callie?”

She stopped in her tracks. He prayed she would turn around. That she wouldn’t walk away and out of his life because she was the proud type who wouldn’t budge an inch.

Just in case prayer didn’t work, he thought he’d better sweeten the pot.

“It was never like that before. Not with anyone. Even . . .” He stopped a minute and decided to push on, his own pride be damned. “Even with my wife.”

She turned slowly, her brow furrowed, worrying those sexy lips of hers to distraction.

Nick took a step forward, hoping she wouldn’t bolt like a deer. She stayed. So did he.

“I . . . those . . . were the most intoxicating kisses I’ve ever tasted.” He moved a few feet closer, his opened palms itching to take her in his arms again.

“I . . . me, too,” she admitted. Her gaze fell to the ground. He moved close enough until she could see his sneakers come into view. Quickly, she looked back up, and he became lost in her emerald eyes.