Lori Wilde - There Goes The Bride (28 page)

Nick’s lips found hers again and as they kissed, he raised a hand to touch her breast.

Her nipple poked through the material of both her silky lace bra and her silk top.

His thumb brushed against her hard little button and she responded by wrapping her legs around his and sliding her bottom against his upper thigh. The feel of her panties against the leg of his jeans was highly sensuous.

When he bent his head to gently suck at her nipple through her shirt, she gasped and clutched his head to her.

This wasn’t good enough. He had to touch her bare skin or go insane.

Sliding his hand up underneath her shirt, he unhooked her bra from behind and set her breasts free. She moved against him, mewling softly. Her usual reticence was gone, replaced by a stark hunger that shoved his libido into overdrive.

No way could he resist the mounting pleasure, nor the sweet little sound slipping past her lips.

And yet, even as he succumbed, he couldn’t help thinking that he was pushing her into this, no matter how eagerly she responded. He wanted her. But not like this. He wanted her to come to him once she had faced the problems in her life and untangled herself from Van Zandt. He didn’t want their joining to spring from his anger or jealousy. Or from her desire to please him. He wanted her to want him unequivocally, with all her heart and soul. He would play second fiddle to no other motive.

“We’ve got to stop,” he gasped, wrenching his mouth from hers. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this. You belong to someone else, and I won’t violate your commitment. It’s wrong and we both know it.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “Nick, no . . . please . . . don’t stop. It feels too good.”

“I made a promise to you. We can’t do this.” He shook his head. “Not as long as another man’s ring is on your finger.”

Delaney got home around midnight, her clothes damp and filled with sand. Her mind in turmoil, her soul filled with a dark roaring, like a house in a hurricane. Buffeted by a destructive force she could not control.

Thankfully, her parents were in bed. No Honey to deal with. No need to explain the wild, desperate look she knew was etched into her face.

Delaney undressed in her bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror, felt the cool tile beneath her feet. Who in the world was this woman? She was morphing into someone she no longer recognized.

Tonight, she’d almost been unfaithful to Evan. Delaney would never have believed herself capable of such a thing. Of violating her most basic principles. She shuddered to think what would have happened if Nick hadn’t had the moral courage to put on the brakes.

Searchingly, she raised her fingertips and traced the outline of her lips, raw and aching from the imprint of his mouth. Trying desperately to make sense of the emotions commanding her.

The map is not the territory,
she thought. It was a piece of paper marked with symbols and lines, a representation of a place.
You are here.
But when you were actually there, the space around you did not look like the map drawings. There was undocumented terrain and surfaces not captured. There were scents and sounds and tastes and textures no map could denote. There were secret alcoves and gradient shadows and varying shades of light and hue.

On the outside, Delaney’s external map was a glossy image—perfected by scalpel and etiquette, but her internal map of reality was distorted by her changing values and beliefs. By the filters life as a Cartwright had placed on her sense of self.

What did she want?

Where did she fit?

Who was she really?

Unable to answer these disturbing questions, she blocked them out and hopped into the shower, eager to wash away her sins.

She turned the water as hot as she could stand it and let it roll over her in heated waves, but no amount of steaming water could drown her guilt. When the water finally ran cold, she got out of the shower, dressed in silk pajamas, and climbed into bed.

Her mind kept going back to Nick and what had occurred on the beach. She tried to barricade her heart against him. To tell herself these feelings weren’t important. That hormones couldn’t be trusted, but she knew it was all a lie to salve her aching soul.

The phone, which was a private line into her bedroom, rang. She checked the caller ID. Out of area. Who was calling so late? She picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Delaney, it’s Evan.”

Guilt rushed her. Guilt, guilt, and more guilt, combined with a strange sense of relief and gratitude. Thank heavens he had called. She needed so badly to hear his voice. So desperately needed for him to bring her back to the values she had almost thrown away in the heat of passion.

“Evan, it’s so good to hear your voice. I’m so happy that you called.” She crossed her legs into a semi-lotus position.

“It’s not too late to be calling? Did I wake you?”

“No, no.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Delaney,” his voice cracked with emotion.

“I’ve missed you too.” And she had missed him, in her way, missed that he hadn’t been here to stop her from making a huge mistake.

“I was thinking about you tonight,” he said. “I think about you every night and all through the day.”

“I think about you too.”

“I can’t wait to see you. We’ve got so much to discuss.”

“When will you be home?”

“A week from Sunday.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Remember when we were kids, when we were each other’s best friend?”

She swallowed hard. “I remember.”

“I wish we were still friends in that same way.”

“But we are still best friends,” she protested.

“No, we’re not. You have Tish, and I . . . I have my work,” he said.

Delaney’s heart pounded with hope. “Is there something bothering you, Evan? You sound different somehow.”

“No, no, not at all,” he denied. “Just thinking about how long we’ve known each other and how very much I love you. I do love you deeply, Delaney. You do know that.”

Oh, dear God, the guilt was ripping her apart. “I know.”

“You’re a very special person.”

“Not so special,” she said, fresh pins of guilt pricking her.

“Very special,” he disagreed. “You believed in me when no one else did. My parents didn’t want me to be a doctor, remember? They wanted me to follow Dad into the oil business. You alone encouraged me to follow my dreams. You were the one who told me I’d make the best doctor in the world. You remember that?”

“I remember.”

“I owe my success to you.”

“You don’t. You did all the hard work. I was just your cheering section.”

“And I love you for it. You matter to me. You matter in my life. Being with you makes me happy.”

“Oh, Evan.” She sighed.

They were the magic words. He couldn’t have said anything that would have convinced her more that she was doing the right thing by marrying him.

“I better go,” he said. “Surgery around here starts at five A.M. I just needed to hear your voice, touch base with you. Everything okay there?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“And the wedding plans?”

“Perfect.”

“With your mother handling the arrangements, of course they are. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Delaney whispered.
Even if it’s not in the way you deserve.

But it was going to be okay, she convinced herself. He needed her. She mattered to him. Ultimately, that’s what she needed most. No chemistry, no sparks, not that certain magical something.

Because it was easier for her to pretend that what they had was enough rather than risk her security on the outside chance that she could have it all.

Chapter 15

N
ick tried not to think about Delaney while he sat in Evan Van Zandt’s waiting room, but it was like a drowning man trying not to think about oxygen. She was in his brain, in his blood—like a virus he couldn’t shake.

To distract himself he picked up a copy of
Texas Monthly
and leafed through it, only to find an article about high-society summer weddings and there, smiling back at him from her engagement photograph, was Delaney. Evan had his arm around her waist, and they both looked so happy it was all Nick could do to keep from ripping the page out of the magazine and shredding it into a hundred little pieces.

Instead, he tossed the magazine aside, got to his feet, and began to pace. Hell, even if she wasn’t already engaged to his doctor, there was no way he and Delaney could have a future together. She got her picture in
Texas Monthly,
for crying out loud. She was cool, she was rich, and she was beautiful. He was hotheaded, middle class, and scarred in more ways than one.

“Mr. Vinetti,” the nurse called from the doorway. “Dr. Van Zandt will see you now.”

Nick clenched his jaw. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t walk in there, look at Van Zandt’s smiling mug, and not ache to coldcock him for running off to Guatemala and causing this whole mess in the first place.

It’s not his fault, it’s yours. You kissed Delaney when you knew she belonged to someone else. If you get your heart broken, you’re responsible. No one else.

“Mr. Vinetti?” the nurse called again, and he followed her into the back offices.

Five minutes later, Nick was on the examination table, stuck in that damn yellow paper gown again, when Evan Van Zandt strode through the door. He looked tanned and lean and happy. Apparently, Guatemala agreed with him.

Van Zandt plopped down on the rolling stool and scooted over to the exam table. “How’s the leg?”

“Improved.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s have a look.” Van Zandt flipped up the corner of the paper gown and prodded Nick’s knee. “How’s that feel?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he said. “A little sensitive to pressure, but no real pain.”

“Excellent, excellent, and the swelling is gone. You really took my advice to heart. Nice progress.” Van Zandt nodded, then rolled back over to the counter where he made some notations in Nick’s chart.

Don’t ask him about his trip. Don’t ask about his upcoming wedding. Don’t ask about Delaney. Get your release form and get the hell out of here.

“How was Guatemala?” Nick asked.

“Oh, terrific, wonderful.” Van Zandt put down his pen and an expression came over his face that could only be described as transformational. “I’ve never felt so alive. We were in the wilds of the jungle, doing primitive surgery on children, most of whom had never even seen Americans. We were changing lives. These kids had horrible deformities, and when we were finished with them they looked normal. Their families were so grateful. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

The way Van Zandt was looking now was the way Nick felt whenever he thought about Delaney. If Van Zandt preferred getting off on his God complex to being with Delaney, in Nick’s opinion, he was seriously delusional.

“There was this one little fella . . .” And Van Zandt was off, regaling him with the specifics of his trip.

Nick shifted uncomfortably on the table and indulged Van Zandt’s riff for several minutes. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. “What does your fiancée think about all this?”

“Oh, well, you know, I just got in late last night and I was so exhausted, to tell you the truth, I haven’t had a chance to see Delaney.”

“You haven’t seen her since you got back?” Nick couldn’t believe it. If he’d been gone from Delaney for six weeks, he’d immediately run to her house, sweep her into his arms, and make love to her all night long.

“I know, it sounds odd, but she’s busy preparing for the wedding, and I’m busy catching up with my patients, and we’ve known each other since we were little kids. It’s not like the crazy, can’t-get-enough-of-you breathless kind of love that you see in the movies. Ours is a quieter, more mature relationship.”

“Don’t you think you deserve the breathless kind of love?” Nick surprised himself by asking. It was all he could do to keep from smashing his fist into Van Zandt’s clueless face.

Van Zandt looked startled. “But that’s not love. That’s just a romanticized version of lust.”

“Have you ever felt it? That breathless variety.”

Van Zandt moistened his lips. “Well, no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Their gazes met and Nick saw a flick of doubt in Van Zandt’s eyes and it made him feel stronger. “Can I go back to work?”

“What?” Van Zandt blinked.

“You’ll sign my release form? Let me get back to work?”

“Yes, sure.” Van Zandt shook his head. “I’ve got the form right here. A man does need his work.”

A few minutes later, after getting dressed and settling up his bill, Nick found himself on the sidewalk outside the building. The same place where Delaney had first thrown the tarp over him—the release form clutched in his hands.

Scrawled in Van Zandt’s strangely legible hand were the words,
Mr. Vinetti may return to full active duty.