Lori Wilde - There Goes The Bride (26 page)

He flopped down on the ground dangerously close to Delaney’s sand-dusted toes.

Up the beach some other picnickers had already brought out their fireworks. Kids twirled sparklers spewing yellow, red, and green heat into the gathering twilight. Fireflies had gotten into the act, blinking on and off among the dunes, Mother Nature competing with man-made pyrotechnics.

“That looks like such fun,” Delaney said, drawing up her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them as she watched the sparklers dance and sizzle.

Nick lay propped up on his elbows. “You’ve never played with sparklers?”

“Always spent my Fourth at the symphony. They have a magnificent fireworks display after the concert.”

“You never, ever shot off any firecrackers of your own?”

She shook her head.

“Now, that’s just shocking.” Nick grinned. “You’ve been so deprived.”

“Tell me about it.” Delaney grinned back.

“Would you like to correct that oversight?” He arched one eyebrow speculatively.

“What? Shoot off fireworks?”

He got to his feet, held out his palm. “Come with me.”

She looked up at him.

He nodded encouragingly. “Yes?”

Swallowing hard, she committed herself by taking his hand.

He closed his fingers around hers and hauled her from the lawn chair. Brittany watched them with narrowed eyes and a disapproving expression on her lips that made Delaney quickly glance away.

Nick’s hand was firm but gentle. A warm sensation of sweet security washed over her.
You are important to me,
his grip seemed to say.
I will take care of you.

But she didn’t need to be taken care of. She’d been taken care of all her life. Everyone telling her what to do, how to think, what to believe, and she’d complied with their wishes. What she really needed was someone who would challenge her, urge her to grow. A tender tether, not a ball and chain. Bonded but not bound. Could Nick be all that?

You’re reading too much into this. He’s just leading you to the fireworks. Stop overthinking things and enjoy the moment.

Sensible. Now, if only she could heed her own advice.

With his fingers loosely laced through hers, Nick guided her to the back of the pickup where Vincent was doling out small doses of fireworks from a large cardboard box to the excited children.

“We’ll start with sparklers,” Nick told Delaney. “They’re the least intimidating.”

Just as he said that, Zack lit off a Black Cat a few feet away, and the loud bang caused Delaney to jump and Brittany’s baby to start crying.

“Go on down closer to the water with your dad,” Vincent instructed his grandson. “And be careful not to burn yourself with that punk.”

Nick retrieved a box of sparklers and a couple of punks from his father, took Delaney’s hand again, and walked her down to the edge of the Gulf.

He handed her a sparkler. Then he lit the punk with a match and once it was going, touched the punk to her sparkler.

There was a quick hiss, and then a magical sizzle of light as the sparkler sprang to life in her hands.

“Oh, oh!” Delaney gasped. “It’s going, it’s going. What do I do? What do I do?”

“Circle your wrist,” he said.

“What?” She was so disconcerted by the fact she was holding a sparking, spitting fire stick, she couldn’t get what he was trying to tell her.

“Like this.”

Nick reached around her, his bare chest grazing her back, his damp swimming trunks pressed against her hip as he slid one hand down her arm to her wrist and encircled it with his big, masculine fingers. He moved her hand in a circle. The sparks showered into a sweeping arc, decorating the night air.

This was fun!

She giggled as Nick changed the circles into zigzags, and then into figure eights, blurring the sparks into one smooth, rapid ride of light until it sputtered and died.

That’s when she realized she was holding a spent but red-hot metal stick, and Nick was still pressed up close against her. She could feel the heat of his breath fanning the hairs on the nape of her neck. Delaney turned her head and peeked at him from behind lowered lashes.

A full moon had risen, bathing the shore in a soft white radiance. Nick’s eyes were alight with a rarefied glow, the smile at his lips beatific. He had a passion about him. A sense of adventure. A childlike wonder when it came to play. He had what she longed for. The ability to let go and enjoy life.

Idly, she wondered if this was what his face looked like when he was having sex. Totally absorbed, blissfully engaged. That irreverent thought caused her whole body to tingle.

This was serious trouble.

Nick’s lips brushed softly against her temple. She felt the erratic rise and fall of his chest, knew his breathing was as labored as her own.

Then the sky lit up with fireworks.

She and Nick turned in unison to see the Vinetti family gathered around as Vincent set off rockets. They were laughing and joking and hugging and talking.

Nick’s arm went around her waist and Delaney’s heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear the Roman candles screaming toward the stars in an explosion of color.

And in that moment, she knew she was going to miss the entire Vinetti clan in general—and one special Vinetti in particular—something awful.

Chapter 14

O
nce the renovations had been completed, Tish came back to tape the “after” video for the
American Home Design
contest, and they mailed it off just in time for the deadline.

But now Lucia’s house had been on the market for a week, and no one had shown the slightest interest in it.

“No problem,” the real estate agent Margaret Krist insisted. “It’s only been seven days.”

But Delaney couldn’t stop worrying. The potential buyers that Margaret ushered through complained the house was too brightly colored, or too provincial, or not elegant enough, or too themed.

Delaney feared she should have listened to conventional wisdom and painted the walls white, with chic but generic decor. She shouldn’t have listened to Nick. She shouldn’t have tried to shake things up. Her experiment had failed.

Lucia told her not to worry, that they just hadn’t found the right buyer who could really fall in love with the place.

Unfortunately time was running out for Lucia, and Delaney felt responsible.

The impulse to buy Nana Vinetti’s house herself was strong, but how could she? She was marrying Evan, and he would never go for it. Not even for investment property. A house this old would require a lot of TLC. Something he had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue.

The third week the house was on the market, Delaney started to sweat. Another week and Lucia would be closing on the condo. But she couldn’t close on it until her home had sold. Determined that her friend would not be left high and dry, Delaney took matters into her own hands and began contacting her mother’s friends, telling them about the fabulous island home for sale. But the women in her mother’s circle weren’t impressed with Galveston. They had second homes in Florida and California and Hawaii and beyond.

She’d run out of options.

Glumly, she sat in her office, trying to figure out what more she could do, when the telephone rang.

“Ms. Delaney Cartwright?”

“This is she.”

“This is Winn Griffin from
American Home Design.
”

“Yes?” Her voice went up an octave as her grip tightened around the receiver.

“I’m pleased to inform you that your entry of Mrs. Lucia Vinetti’s Galveston Island home has won second place in our contest.”

Excitement shot Delaney to her feet. “Really?”

“You and Mrs. Vinetti will share the twenty-five-thousand-dollar second prize, and the video you submitted will be featured on the next installment of
American Home Design
.”

“That’s amazing. Thank you, thank you.”

“The renovations you did on the home were charming. Your entry really captured our judges’ imaginations. Tuscany meets Queen Victoria. Brilliant work.”

She wasn’t the one with the brilliant idea. It had been all Nick’s doing. Shake it up, he’d told her, and he’d been so right.

“You’re a truly talented designer, Ms. Cartwright, and I’m sure this exposure will skyrocket your house-staging business.”

“How soon will we get the money?” she asked, thinking that the money would be enough for the down payment on Lucia’s condo.

“It takes six to eight weeks to process payment through our accounting firm.”

That was too bad. The money wouldn’t arrive before Lucia was due to close on the condo.

Maybe this time Lucia would accept a loan from her. She’d tried to get her to borrow the down payment from her before, but Lucia’s fierce pride would not let her take Delaney’s money. Perhaps knowing that the money was coming to her eventually would sway Lucia’s thinking. Especially since she had that heart condition.

She’d told herself she would worry about that later. Right now, she had good news to share. Lucia’s house was going to be featured on
American Home Design.

The Vinetti clan along with Delaney and Tish gathered at Lucia’s house for an
American Home Design
watching party.

Nick hadn’t seen Delaney since they’d finished the house, just a few days after the Fourth of July party.

The minute she walked through the door, everyone was on their feet to greet her, welcoming her like part of the family.

She looked elegant as always—expensive and classy in a beige skirt cut from some kind of soft flowing material that made it look like water parting when she moved. Her top was simple, black and sleeveless, showing off her well-toned arms and smooth, creamy skin. The minute she saw him, her soft green eyes crinkled along with her perfectly straight nose and she smiled slightly, shyly.

And Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her.

That smile was a missile launched straight into his heart.

It was over, he realized. After tonight he would probably never see her again.

Nick was going to miss her more than he’d ever thought possible. She’d brought lightness into his life at a time when everything looked dark and dismal. She’d made him believe in possibilities again, even though she was way beyond what he had any right to fantasize about.

He fought the feeling. Fought it hard. He didn’t want to fall in love again. Couldn’t fall in love again. Not with a woman who was marrying another man.

***

It was easy enough to avoid Nick in a room crowded with people, but Delaney couldn’t seem to stop her gaze from straying over to him throughout the broadcast of
American Home Design.
He caught her studying him a couple of times. She would duck her head and will the heat not to rise to her cheeks. She didn’t want anyone else noticing what he could do to her with just one meaningful glance.

When the first-, second-, and third-place winners of the contest were announced, the room broke into applause. The program ran the video of the third-place winner first. It was a house built among the trees near the Oregon coastline, and then they went on to Delaney’s entry.

“Great video footage,” Gina told Tish.

“Great house decorating,” Nick’s brother Richie said.

“It was a great idea to go with the Tuscan style, Nick,” Delaney said, her eyes on him. “I’m glad you nixed the stark white.”

He met her gaze with his intense stare, and she couldn’t stop herself. This time she did blush.

The television show went to commercial before the final winner was announced, but the Vinettis had already seen the winning home. Everyone was talking at once. Someone broke open a bottle of champagne. Someone else muted the television and turned on a recording of Italian love songs. Lucia brought a tray of antipasto into the room. Zack and Jack trailed behind her with another tray of mini-pizzas and finger sandwiches made from prosciutto and provolone.

It was officially a party.

Delaney avoided Nick and Nick avoided Delaney.

They stayed at opposite sides of the room, both pretending not to notice that they were noticing each other. Restlessly, he prowled his corner, shooting quick, searing glances at her from time to time.

His leg was almost healed. She hadn’t seen him limp in a long time. She was glad for Nick. He’d be returning to work soon, and that should make him happy. He deserved to be happy.

Except that he did not look very happy.

He looked tormented, and she had the most awful realization that she was the cause.

Unnerved by the black look in his eyes, Delaney escaped into the kitchen to see if Lucia needed any help. The older woman was standing at the stove stirring a simmering pot of marinara sauce that smelled like Tuscan heaven.

Lucia turned to smile at her and slipped an arm around her waist. “Delaney, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and my family.”

A warm glow of affection for Lucia filled her up. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.”