One True Love (19 page)

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Authors: Barbara Freethy

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: One True Love
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“Uh, this is Raymond Curtis. I’m looking for Elisabeth Alvarez.”

Nick felt another rush of anger. Not only was he reminded that Lisa had another man in her life, he’d also lost his only chance of getting Maggie back on the phone.

“For you,” he said shortly, handing the phone to Lisa.

“Hello? Raymond. No, it’s all right. We just thought you were someone else.” Nick stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Lisa was grateful he’d left. She preferred to speak to Raymond in private. “How are you?”

“Not so good. I had a breakfast meeting with Monty this morning. I had Paul and Jeff work up some ideas for me, but Monty didn’t like any of them. I need you on this, Elisabeth. What time will you be back today?”

Lisa took a deep breath, knowing Raymond would not like her answer. “I don’t think I’ll be back today. Maybe not tomorrow either. My friend hasn’t returned, and I can’t leave the kids.”

“Elisabeth,” Raymond said tensely, obviously trying to hang on to his patience. “Forgive me if I’m not being sympathetic, but yesterday I spoke to your mother, and this morning a man answers the phone. It sounds like there are plenty of people down there who could take care of those kids.”

Lisa twisted the phone cord between her fingers. “Maggie left them with me, Raymond. I made a promise.”

“You made a promise to me. By the way, did you mail our wedding invitations?”

Lisa hesitated, then lied. “Yes, they’re on their way.”

“Well, thank goodness for that.”

Lisa felt terribly guilty, but she would mail them, she told herself, as soon as she got off the phone.

“Elisabeth. I can’t lose this account. You’re going to have to find someone to relieve you.”

“What if I work up some ideas and fax them to you?”

Raymond didn’t answer for a moment. “All right. I did get more information today that might help you. I guess that’s all I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely meaning it. “I didn’t know Maggie would disappear like this. But we have several weeks. We can get it done.”

“This isn’t something we can throw together at the last minute. Believe me, Beverly Wickham is hot for this account. I’m not sure she isn’t in the lead.”

“You’ve never been afraid of Beverly.”

“I’ve gotten to know her a little better.”

“Really?” Lisa asked, hearing something in his voice that sounded odd.

“Why is that? I would think she would be the last person you’d be socializing with, especially in the middle of this contest.”

“She keeps turning up, like a bad penny,” he replied. “Does your friend have a fax there? I want to get you this information before you start coming up with copy.”

“Mm-mm, let me check.” Lisa put down the phone and walked to the door.

She opened it and saw Nick lounging in front of the television in the adjoining family room. “Nick, do you know where I can find a fax?”

“There’s one at my store,” he said, without turning his head.

“Would you mind if Raymond sent me something?”

“Why would I mind?”

“What’s the number?” Lisa asked, trying to ignore his bad mood.

She reached for a piece of paper on a side table and jotted down the number he gave her, then returned to the kitchen and relayed it to Raymond.

“Elisabeth, if you can do this as soon as possible,” Raymond said, “it would really help. I want to make sure you and the art department are in sync.”

“I’ll try to get you something by this afternoon.”

“All right.”

Lisa wasn’t sure what else to say. Their conversation was so business-oriented, so edgy. She was going to marry this man in under a month, and he seemed like a stranger.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said finally. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” she said softly, wondering why she hadn’t told him she loved him, wondering why he hadn’t said the same to her.

Chapter 17

Lisa hid in the kitchen for the next thirty minutes, cleaning and straightening the shelves until she had absolutely nothing left to do. When she went into the family room, she found it empty. She had begun to think Nick had left when she heard the strains of his guitar coming from upstairs.

She followed the music to Mary Bea’s room, where she found Nick playing a Spanish love song to his niece. Mary Bea’s eyes drooped so low they were almost closed. Lisa leaned against the doorjamb and listened to him, feeling the music play through her soul.

The song was familiar. He’d played it for Robin many, many times. At some point, they’d begun to call it Robin’s song. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain, but instead she felt only a bittersweet sense of longing, which slowly turned into pleasure. She’d missed this song, missed hearing Nick play.

The Spanish guitar was one part of her heritage she had never denied.

When Nick had learned how to play the songs that were part of her culture, he’d completely won over Silvia and Carmela—and her.

He’d seduced her with that same music. They’d made love to it, and they’d watched their baby sleep through it. So many memories, she thought, as a montage of images raced through her mind. She remembered sitting with Nick on a bluff overlooking the ocean, content to share a little music, a big sunset and a long bottle of wine. She could see

them walking down Pacific Avenue on Sunday, when the artists took over the sidewalks. With Nick holding her hand, kissing her mouth, laughing, always smiling, she’d felt like her life was one beautiful love story. Nick had coaxed her to try so many new things, riding a motorcycle, taking a dune buggy ride in the desert, eating praline pecan ice cream and Ruby’s hot, hot chili.

They had shared a lot of good times, she realized, and when she’d turned her back on her life with him, she’d locked away not just the bad memories but the good ones as well.

Nick stopped playing, and she opened her eyes. He looked at her inquiringly, obviously not sure of her response.

“That was nice,” she said softly.

“Sh-sh.” He tipped his head toward the sleeping child, then slid off the bed and met her in the hallway. They both looked back to see if Mary Bea was still asleep. She was, so Lisa pulled the door halfway closed.

“That was beautiful,” Lisa said, as Nick set his guitar down on the floor next to the hall table.

“Thanks.”

He stared at her with so many questions in his eyes—questions she couldn’t begin to answer. “I’d forgotten how well you play,” she said finally.

“I’m a little out of practice.”

“Do you—do you play for Suzanne?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

His eyes met hers. “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Lisa.”

She knew she was, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I asked a simple question. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Obviously it is.”

“Liar.” Nick took a step closer. “You don’t just want to know if I play the guitar for Suzanne, do you?” He took another step closer, until his face was just inches from hers. “You want to know what goes on between us, how serious we are, if we’ve made love, if you were better—“

”Stop it, Nick.” She shoved him backward, out of her face, out of her space.

“Why should I stop? You wanted to know. You asked.”

“About your music, nothing else. Why do I even try to talk to you?”

“I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll leave.”

“Good.” She took a breath, wishing she could just walk away, but she couldn’t. “When do you think you’ll be back?” she asked grudgingly.

“I don’t know. Why?” He sent her a mocking smile. “Will you miss me?”

“I need that fax that should be at your store by now, so I can do some work this afternoon.”

“Right.” His expression turned grim at the reminder of Raymond. “I’ll come back at lunch. Will that be soon enough to hear from your lover?”

“It’s business, Nick.”

“Excuse me? I thought you were in love with the man.”

“The fax is business. You’re twisting my words.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t believe what you’re doing to my head.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at her.

She glared right back, refusing to walk away or back down. She had done nothing wrong, except ask him to pick up a fax for her. “What’s the big deal? If my receiving a fax at your store was such a problem, why did you give me the number?”

“It’s not the fax. It’s you.”

“What am I doing that is irritating you so much?”

“It’s what you’re not doing.”

She put a hand to her head, feeling the onset of a headache. “What does that mean?”

“It means, I can’t stand it anymore.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up against his body so she could feel every long, lean inch of him, hard and male, and hauntingly familiar.

His mouth pressed against her lips and stole her breath away. His lips punished her for loving another man. She tried to push him away but

couldn’t. Once she touched him, her resistance fled. Her hands refused to pummel his chest and instead slipped around his waist, bringing him that much closer to her.

With her resistance gone, Nick’s kisses changed from angry to passionate to needy, and she couldn’t help but respond to that longing. With each kiss, he took back a part of her that had once been his.

Eight years of absence disappeared into nothingness as his mouth demanded and she gave, as his body tightened and hers softened, as his hands caressed her shoulders and her hands clung to his waist.

Nick backed her up against the wall so there was no place for her to go. His mouth left her lips to travel across her cheek, to the curve of her neck. His tongue drew a line around the lobe of her ear, and she thought she might just die with the pleasure of it.

When Nick’s hands came up under her sweatshirt, she didn’t slap them away. She wanted him to touch her breasts. She wanted his hands all over her body, and suddenly that’s exactly where they were.

“Nick,” she breathed, as he teased one nipple into a sharp point of pleasure.

“I love the way you say my name,” he murmured, kissing her mouth again and again and again.

His fingers fumbled with the snap on her jeans. Finally, it was open, and his hand caressed the flat of her stomach, the edge of her panties, teasingly, until she knew she wanted more and more and more.

“You’re driving me crazy. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t think about anything or anyone but you,” he said against her mouth. “I thought you were out of my head, but you’re right back in it.”

He pulled away and looked deep into her eyes, searching them for some sort of truth. She tried to hide from his gaze, but there was nowhere to go, no way to disguise the way she felt—overwhelmed and seduced by his eyes and his hands and his mouth. And it wasn’t just her body that was responding—it was her heart and her soul. He took her hand and pulled her down the hall toward Maggie’s bedroom. Lisa didn’t think about resisting. Her body wanted more of his touch. Her mind seemed lost to reason.

Try to think, she told herself, as Nick kissed her again. She moaned with the pleasure of it. How could she fight herself and him, too? The task seemed daunting, but as Nick pulled off his shirt, a cool breeze blew in her face, and she suddenly realized she was standing in the middle of Maggie’s bedroom. This wasn’t her house or her life or her man.

“We can’t.” She held up a hand as Nick stepped toward her. “Mary Bea—”

“Is asleep.”

She eyed his bare, muscular chest and felt her resolve slipping away.

He looked so good, so damn good, and it had been a long, long time. The years between had starved her for this moment. She took a deep breath and tried to count to ten. She counted seven twice and eight three times, but she finally made it to ten. “We’re divorced, Nick.”

He laughed, but the sound was harsh and unforgiving. His mouth tightened, his eyes turned bleak, and the light of desire changed into anger. “We’re divorced. So that should stop us from wanting each other? I have a news flash for you. It doesn’t change a thing. We promised to love each other forever, till death do us part. If you think a piece of paper will destroy that—”

“It was till death we do part,” she reminded him.

“I’m not dead.”

“You know what I mean.”

“The promise was between us,” he said fiercely. “I’ve never even considered marrying anyone else.”

His statement shocked her. “You haven’t? What about Suzanne?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Suzanne is a very nice woman, who thinks we make a good couple. But she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t even know about Robin. I’ve tried to tell her, to trust her, but I can’t do it. And I can’t marry her, knowing I don’t love her the way I loved you. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

His words made Lisa feel like the biggest cheater in the world. Was she shortchanging Raymond, giving him only a part of herself? Didn’t he deserve a woman who absolutely adored him, who would love and cherish him all the days of his life?

But she would be good to Raymond, she told herself. She would treat him with respect. She would make his life easier. She would be his partner, his friend, his mate. Surely, at his age he didn’t expect mind-blowing passion.

At his age. What was she thinking? Was that why she was marrying him, because she thought he would have less expectations than a younger man? Was that true? Was it fair? And did Raymond deserve a woman who still wanted to make love to her ex-husband?

Suddenly, she had so many questions and not one answer.

“Lisa.” Nick put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Just admit one thing. You still want me in your bed.”

“I can’t admit that.”

“Then you’re lying to yourself as well as to me, because a minute ago you wanted me inside your body and in your bed. We both know that. Oh, to hell with you. If you want to lie, lie.” He grabbed his shirt off the floor and stormed toward the door. “It won’t change the truth.”

“Which is that we’re finished,” she called after him, determined to have the last word.

He paused in the doorway. “You’ll never be finished with me, no matter who you marry. I’m in your blood. I’m under your skin. I’m in your head. Now that you’ve kissed me again, do you really think you won’t see me when you’re kissing him?”

“You’re an arrogant, obnoxious jerk.”

“Who knows you better than anyone.”

As Nick left the room, Lisa had a terrible feeling he might just be right. “Great news,” Jeremy declared as Maggie opened her hotel room door.

“Really?” she asked hopefully, noting his pleased expression. “You talked to Serena?”

His smile altered slightly as he stepped inside the room. “No. I spoke to the concierge. I told him I was trying to catch up with a friend of mine and wondered if she’d stopped by to ask directions for an activity we were planning.” “That sounds inventive.”

He walked across the room and opened the drapes, allowing the sunshine to stream in through the windows. “That’s better.”

“Go on,” Maggie urged, impatient to hear the rest.

Jeremy laughed. “You know, I’m pretty good at this undercover stuff.”

“Would you get to the point?”

“Okay. I described Serena to the concierge, and he had seen her. In fact, he’d spoken to her at some length. He remembered because he thought Serena was gorgeous.”

Maggie frowned. She hated to think about Serena’s good looks. It only made her feel worse. “Did he know what Serena’s plans were?”

“Yes. She and a friend went to the wine country to do some wine tasting.”

“Was the friend male?”

Jeremy nodded again.

She grabbed his arm and twisted the sleeves of his shirt between her anxious fingers. “Did he say the guy’s name? Did he tell you what he looked like? Was it Keith?”

Jeremy slowly peeled her fingers from his shirt. “I don’t know for sure, Maggie. The concierge didn’t notice the guy. His attention was focused on Serena, because she’s so—”

“Gorgeous. I get the picture.” Maggie flopped down on the edge of the bed, feeling anxious and panicked and depressed, all at the same time.

They were so close, yet so far away.

“Maggie, we know where they went. That’s good news,” Jeremy reminded

her. “Yeah they went to the wine country. Great. Do you know how many wineries there are in Napa Valley? That is, if they went to Napa and not to Sonoma. In which case, we’d have to cover another valley.”

“Heroines do not get discouraged. They get tough. They fight back,” Jeremy said. He pulled her to her feet to get her going, but once he let go of her, she sat back down on the bed. “Hey, come on. Don’t give up on me now.”

“I’m not a heroine, Jeremy, and this is not a book.”

“No, it’s better,” he said with a broad grin, that enticed her to smile back.

“Why is that?” she asked somewhat reluctantly.

“Because we’re living it. We’re not reading about someone else’s adventure. We’re having our own. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

“Jeremy, this isn’t fun. It’s serious. I’m looking for a man I was married to for thirteen years. If he faked his death and lied to me, my whole life will have been one big lie. I won’t know who I am anymore.” She sighed. “Actually, I don’t know who I am at the moment, so that probably won’t change.”

“Maggie, I know this is hard for you,” Jeremy said, once again pulling her to her feet. This time he held on to her as he gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry if I seem to be taking it lightly. But we can do this. We can find Serena. I know we can.” He let go of one of her hands to pull something out of his pocket. “And the task isn’t as difficult as you might think. The concierge circled the wineries he recommended to Serena.” Jeremy held up the brochure in his hand. “And there’s more good news. Serena only left a half hour ago. With any luck, we should be able to catch up to her before the end of the day.”

“With any luck,” Maggie echoed doubtfully. “I haven’t had much luck lately.” She pulled herself out of his grasp and walked over to the window, gazing down at the city of San Francisco. What was she doing in a place so far from home, with one man she barely knew, chasing after another man she apparently had never known? Jeremy put his arms around her waist, letting her rest against his chest. “What else happened?” he asked quietly. “You weren’t this upset when I left you an hour ago.”

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