Falling For Nick

by Joleen James

  "Clea, nice to see you," Senator Bloomfield greeted, giving Clea's hand a warm squeeze. "I hope we're not interrupting."

  "No, of course not. I was just making dinner. I'm always glad to see you. Is there a reason for this visit?"

  "I called them here," Vivian said from her perch on the sofa. "We need to discuss things with you, Clea. You haven't been thinking clearly since that man returned to town."

  "That man?" Clea repeated, feeling like a horse being led to slaughter. "You mean Nick? John's father."

  A slight hiss escaped from Ellen. The senator cleared his throat.

  "Darling, we don't mean to gang up on you," Robert said, his tone placating. "We're worried about you, and especially about John. You just don't seem to be making the best decisions now."

  "Nick Lombard is a criminal," Ellen said. She fingered a large ruby ring on her right hand. "Do you really want him around John?"

  "Why don't you just say it?" Clea said. "Nick killed Danny. That's what this is about, isn't it? What happened to Danny has nothing to do with John. Nick loves John. If you saw them together, you'd know it. Last night Nick showed me how much he loves his son. He kept me from falling apart, when I knew he wanted to fall apart, too. I can't exclude Nick from my life because he makes all of you uncomfortable."

  "You're not in your right mind." Vivian pressed her lips together before shooting a pleading look at Robert.

  "Excuse me?" Clea said, her temper shooting up. She didn't like being ganged up on. Every instinct she had told her to protect Nick and John. "Are you implying I'm crazy for letting Nick into my life?"

  "Well, you haven't been yourself." Robert came to her and took her hand. "I know things will be better once we leave town, but don't you think it's best if we nip things in the bud right now? Aren't things confusing enough for John? Why add Nick to the mix?"

  "It's too late," Clea cried. "Nick is back to stay. No one is asking any of you to like it. In fact, and I'm sorry for saying so," she looked at the Bloomfields, "it's not really any of your business."

  Ellen gasped. Senator Bloomfield turned away, walking over to the window. Thankfully, he'd kept silent so far.

  "Clea Rose!" her mother said. "Apologize at once."

  "No," the senator said. "She's right. It isn't any of our business."

  "It most certainly is," Vivian replied.

  Clea pulled her hand from Robert's. "I know you don't like Nick, Mom, and I'm sorry, but I have to think of John. He needs Nick in his life, even after we go to New York. He will need his father forever. Can any of you accept that?"

  The door burst open, and John ran through, Nick behind him.

  John skidded to a stop when he saw the group. "Hey, why is everyone here?" he asked, surprised. A streak of grease marred his right cheek. His shirt was untucked, his hair wild.

  Clea saw the worry in Nick's eyes. "They stopped by to see if you were all right," Clea lied. "Everyone was worried about you last night." It was the reason they should have come by, and it saddened her that they hadn't asked about John once.

  "I'm okay," he said, sounding skeptical.

  "Why are they together?" Robert asked, his focus on Nick. "What's happening here?"

  "John is working with Nick at the garage," Clea explained.

  "What!" Robert strode to Nick. "I told you to stay away from Clea and John."

  "Robert," Senator Bloomfield warned. "Stay out of it."

  "I won't stay out of it," Robert cried, his voice rising. "He killed my brother. I don't want him around Clea or John."

  "That's not really your choice, Boomer," Nick said quietly.

  "The hell it isn't!" Robert took a menacing step toward Nick.

  "Stop it." Clea stepped between the two men, halting Robert's progress. She cast a worried glance at John. His eyes were wide with horror.

  "Shut up," John shouted, covering his ears with his hands. "Stop it. Stop yelling at my dad. I hate all of you." John ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door.

  "Son of a bitch," Nick muttered with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry, Princess." He walked from the apartment.

  Clea started after him, but Robert grabbed her arm.

  "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "Don't you dare run after him."

  Clea yanked her arm free. She'd never felt more confused, yet she couldn't let Nick go, not like this. Stepping outside, she called, "Nick, wait."

  He'd already started down the stairs, but he stopped and waited for her to catch up.

  "I didn't know they'd be here," she said. "Robert had no right to speak to you that way. I'm so sorry." The hard look was back in Nick's eyes. The urge to reach out and touch him almost overpowered her, but she fought the feeling, not wanting to make things worse. Changing the subject, she asked, "How did it go with John?"

  "Fine."

  He said the word through clenched teeth. Clea could feel his anger, and she couldn't blame him for being mad. He'd been attacked in her apartment.

  "John's a quick study," he said. "I think he liked working on the car, even though he'd never admit it to me."

  "I'm glad it went well." She nodded toward the apartment. "Don't let them get to you."

  "I won't if you won't." He gave her a wry smile.

  Clea smiled back. Her mind screamed danger. It felt so good to be on the same side with him.

  The sound of her apartment door opened. Robert came out onto the landing. "Clea, we're waiting for you."

  "I'm coming." She turned back to Nick. "John will be there tomorrow."

  "I know he will." Nick continued on down the stairs. Clea watched until he left her view.

  "Are you coming?" Robert called, his tone impatient.

  "In a minute."

  Robert stormed back into the apartment. The door banged shut.

  Clea stared out at the street below. The cold numbed her cheeks, but she needed a minute to clear her head before facing Port Bliss' elite again.

  She didn't like to be bossed around. For too many years she'd done things the way her mother wanted her to. She never realized it before, but she'd become a puppet, with everyone pulling her strings. Was she strong enough to break away from her mother, from the social pressure Vivian and the Bloomfields put on her?

  So many important decisions weighed her down. If she made the wrong choices, John would be hurt. Before Nick's return everything had seemed so clear, but the future had grown muddy and messy. Inside her apartment a roomful of people waited to convince her to cut Nick from her life. Could she really choose between her mother and Nick?

  She thought of John, alone in his room, angry, upset. Her son needed her to be strong. Sighing, Clea climbed the stairs to her apartment.

  * * *

  Nick had just crawled into bed when he heard a knock on the door. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair. The clock glowed eleven-thirty. He had no idea who would come over this late at night. Billy hit the sheets early. Clea would be home in bed. That left Robert.

  Nick yanked on his pants. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with Boomer Bloomfield. By the time he reached the door, he'd worked up enough anger to snap off Boomer's head. He unlatched the door and yanked it open.

  "Yeah," he snarled. Instead of Boomer he found himself looking into Clea's startled eyes. "Clea," he said, softening his tone. "Is everything all right? Is it John?"

  "No, he's fine." Rain dotted her hat, and soaked her coat. "I couldn't sleep. May I come in?"

  "Sure." He pulled the door wider and she walked past him into the apartment.

  She looked around the small room, at the pitiful kitchen, the tired furniture, the faded photographs. He remembered bringing her here when they were teenagers. The place had been a mess. The apartment had reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. He'd wanted to die at the pity he'd seen in her eyes, and he prayed he wouldn't see that same pity now.

  "You've done a lot with the place." She removed her hat and gloves, setting them on the kitchen table. "Is that my photo?" She wa
lked over to the wall where he'd hung the picture of John he'd purchased at The Coffee House. "Did you buy this?"

  "Yes. I hope you don't mind."

  "Of course I don't. I'll refund your money. I don't want you to pay for pictures of John." She faced him. "I have others I can give you, if you want them."

  Her words touched him. "I'd like that. Let me take your coat."

  She unbuttoned the coat and he helped her shrug out of it. The wool felt wet and heavy, as if she'd walked in the rain a long time. She rubbed her hands together, blowing on them to warm her fingers.

  Nick caught her cold hands in his warm ones. "You're ice cold."

  "I've been walking."

  He rubbed her hands, trying to restore her circulation, wondering what was wrong, fearing the news wouldn't be good. Had Boomer, Vivian, and the Bloomfields managed to convince Clea to cut him from her life? His gut tightened.

  "I needed to think tonight, Nick," she said.

  "About what?" He didn't see pity in her eyes as he'd feared. Instead he saw questions.

  "I'm going to be married." She gave him a slight smile. "I should be happy, but instead I'm all mixed up. Things are a mess. My son is angry with everyone. My mother and Robert are putting all kinds of pressure on me. The only thing going halfway right is my career, and even that isn't perfect, because I don't think John wants to leave Port Bliss. I keep asking myself why?"

  "Why what?" he asked, not sure he understood anything she'd just said.

  "Why I'm not happy." All signs of a smile slipped from her lips and she turned her face up to his, the honesty in her eyes touching him in a way her hands could not.

  "The answer to that is simple." Nick pulled her toward him until a thin slice of air separated their bodies. "You're marrying the wrong man."

  "Am I, Nick?" she asked, the words a whisper. "I don't think I am. Robert is the right man in many ways."

  "Not in the ways that count."

  She moved away from him and went to the window. "We can't base a relationship on sex. When the sex is over, what would we have left?" Confusion filled her eyes.

  "Are you saying what I feel for you is just sex?" Nick asked, his heart hammering in his chest. "Because if that's what you think, you're dead wrong."

  "I think what I feel for you is lust," she said. "Pure lust. It's what I felt for you ten years ago - an uncontrollable passion that clouded my good judgment. I don't want that to happen again. It took me years to recover, to refocus on what was truly important to me, John and my photography."

  "Are you saying the time you spent with me was a mistake?" His throat closed around the words.

  "I don't know." She rammed her fingers through her hair. "Maybe. Yes."

  Her words cut deep, extinguishing the spark of hope he'd felt for their future. "Why are you here, Clea?" He'd never been good enough for her. After ten years, nothing had changed. She was still listening to her family, still doing what they wanted her to do. She was still a coward.

  "I just wanted to be clear about everything before I marry Robert. I want you to understand why we can never have a relationship. We're too different."

  "We're not so different. We're more alike than you think."

  She shook her head, but she couldn't find the words to dispute him.

  "You're afraid," Nick said. "You're afraid of what you feel for me, just like you were afraid ten years ago. You're afraid to tell your mother and Robert what you really want. You came here tonight to make sure I didn't tempt you anymore. Well, I have news for you. You wanted me then, and you want me now."

  "No." Clea backed away from him. "I didn't want you. I knew it was wrong."

  "But, baby, it felt so good."

  Clea clamped her mouth shut and made a beeline for her coat. Before she reached the door, he caught her arm.

  "Why did you really come here?" he asked, his temper rising along with his desire for her. "Was it for sex? Did you want to see if you could resist me?"

  For a split second passion darkened her eyes, a passion he wanted to ignite.

  "No, Nick." Her protest came out weak and unconvincing.

  He backed her up against the wall, one hand on each side of her head. At the base of her throat, her pulse beating wildly, fanning his desire for her.

  "Did you come for one last fling?" Nick asked, knowing his words hurt her. He wanted her to feel the same pain he did.

  "No." Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took.

  "Then what, Clea? Why did you come?" He whispered the words close to her ear and she shivered. "Tell me why you're here." He touched her ear with his tongue. She tasted as sweet as honey. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. He'd been crazy in love with her from the beginning. If she wanted to end things with him, she never should have come over. She wouldn't win. Not here, not alone with him.

  "I thought I could make you understand." She moaned when he sucked her earlobe. "I thought I owed you that much."

  "Understand what?"

  "That I can't be with you."

  "You're with me right now." He grazed her neck with his lips, kissing her jaw, her mouth. She moaned again, setting him ablaze with desire. The stiffest erection he'd ever had strained against his jeans and he moved against her, wanting the relief only she could give him.

  He wanted to take what was his, and he claimed her mouth in a fiery kiss, bringing a moan from deep in her throat. Surrendering, she melted against him. She opened her lips and her tongue met his. Impatient hands moved up his bare chest, to his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh. He needed more, wanted everything.

  Reaching behind her, he lifted her up, and she wound her legs around his waist. He thrust against her, and even with their clothing between them he knew he would lose control soon. It had been too damn long for him and she felt too good.

  "Say you want me, Princess," he said, doing a slow grind against her. "Tell me."

  "I want you, Nick," she said against his mouth. "God help me, I want you."

  Her declaration sent a shot of satisfaction straight to his soul. He kissed her cheek and tasted the salt of tears. Reality intruded and he paused to look at her. "You're crying."

  "I don't know what to do." Her eyes glittered with the tears of her confusion.

  The sadness in her voice ripped into him, making him feel like a heel.

  "I want you," she admitted. "No one sets me on fire like you do, Nick, but I have to marry Robert. I don't know how to stop the wedding. I can't disappoint everyone. I feel like such a failure. Even if I could end things, I'm leaving town. There's no happy ending here, Nick. Not for any of us. I'm mixed up. And poor John, he's caught in the middle of this mess."

  She sounded saner than ever to him. "Tell Boomer you don't want to marry him."

  "I can't stop the wedding. It's too late. Do you realize how many people are involved in this wedding, how much money my mother has sunk into it? And worse, Robert has given up his job to come with me. How do I tell him I can't marry him?"

  "I'll tell him for you."

  She shook her head. "No."

  He let go of her legs and her body slid down his until her feet touched the floor.

  Clea wiped her tears with her sleeve. "There's a lot at stake. Things you don't understand. My son is angry. My mother's health is failing, and Robert can't take one more disappointment."

  "It's all about them," Nick said. "Put yourself first for once."

  "I tried, but I can't." Her words held a hopelessness that tore at him.

  "I'm just supposed to watch it happen?" Nick asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "You've just admitted to me you don't want the marriage. What am I supposed to do? How do I put out the fire that does a slow burn in my gut whenever I think about you? That flame keeps me alive. I'm not willing to be miserable the rest of my life because of some misguided loyalty you feel to a man who doesn't begin to deserve you. We belong together, and you know it. You have to call the wedding off before it's too late."

 
; Clea backed away from him. "I never should have come here. It's not fair to you. I'm sorry, Nick."

  She put her coat on. He didn't want her to go, not like this with things unresolved between them. "I love you, Clea."

  Tears filled her eyes.

  And then she was gone.

  Nick stared at the door, wondering what had just happened. Clea had all but told him she didn't want to marry Robert, but she still intended to go through with the wedding. This was insane. This was wonderful.

  Whether she realized it or not, she'd just given him hope.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Clea let herself into her apartment, her hands shaking on the knob. What had she done? Why had she gone to Nick's? She'd wanted him to take her, right there, against the wall. Never in her life had she wanted anything more. A part of her had hoped he would make love to her despite her protests. Had she wanted to use him as her excuse to call off the marriage? She wasn't being any fairer to Nick than she was to Robert. A hot rush of shame stained her cheeks. Both men deserved better.

  Taking off her coat, she hung it on the rack near the door. She took a step and the lamp beside the sofa flared to life.

  "Where have you been?" Vivian asked.

  Guilt washed through her. "You should be in bed, Mom."

  "I asked you a question, Clea." Vivian sighed, long and heavy. "Don't bother to answer. You've been with him. I could see it when you were a teenager, and I can see it now."

  "I don't want to talk." She needed time to think.

  "You're getting married," Vivian said tightly. "How can you cheat on Robert?"

  "I didn't cheat on him." Or had she? She'd kissed Nick. She'd allowed him to take liberties with her, and she'd barely given Robert a thought. In fact, sex with Robert had dried up since Nick's return. Somehow, she'd managed to come up with one excuse after another to avoid being intimate with Robert.

  "Robert deserves better than this," Vivian said. "What're you doing? You're about to become the daughter-in-law of a United States senator. Doesn't that mean something to you Clea? It should. You have a chance to enter the inner circle, and Robert is your ticket inside. Why would you want to squander such an opportunity? Why?"