And Then He Kissed Me

by Southwick, Teresa

  Nick was the first man Abby had ever almost kissed.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Teresa Southwick

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Copyright

  Nick was the first man Abby had ever almost kissed.

  Technically it wasn’t her first time, but Nick was a man. Somehow she knew he would have done the deed with confidence, finesse and thoroughness. He’d made her pulse pound, her heart race, and stolen the breath from her lungs without even touching his mouth to hers. Oh, how she wished he had!

  If she wasn’t careful, he would see that. What if he took her up on the invitation? She would be out of the frying pan into the fire.

  How could she keep him from seeing how very much she wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers?

  Dear Reader,

  Compelling, emotionally charged stories featuring honorable heroes, strong heroines and the deeply rooted conflicts they must overcome to arrive at a happily-ever-after are what make a Silhouette Romance novel come alive. Look no further than this month’s offerings for stories to sweep you away....

  In Johnny’s Pregnant Bride, the engaging continuation of Carolyn Zane’s THE BRUBAKER BRIDES, an about-to-bemarried cattle rancher honorably claims another woman—and another man’s baby—as his own. This month’s VIRGIN BRIDES title by Martha Shields shows that when The Princess and the Cowboy agree to a marriage of convenience, neither suspects the other’s real identity...or how difficult not falling in love will be! In Truly, Madly, Deeply, Elizabeth August delivers a powerful transformation tale, in which a vulnerable woman finds her inner strength and outward beauty through the love of a tough-yet-tender single dad and his passel of kids.

  And Then He Kissed Me by Teresa Southwick shows the romantic aftermath of a surprising kiss between best friends who’d been determined to stay that way. A runaway bride at a crossroads finds that Weddings Do Come True when the right man comes along in this uplifting novel by Cara Colter. And rounding out the month is Karen Rose Smith with a charming story whose title says it all: Wishes, Waltzes and a Storybook Wedding.

  Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.

  Mary-Theresa Hussey

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Eric, Ont. L2A 5X3

  AND THEN HE KISSED ME

  Teresa Southwick

  Published by Silhouette Books

  America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

  To Karen Taylor Richman, for your unwavering support

  and steady guidance. My profound gratitude.

  And Joan Marlow Golan, for understanding my vision

  and giving me the opportunity to write this book.

  My sincere thanks.

  Books by Teresa Southwick

  Silhouette Romance

  Wedding Rings and Baby Things #1209

  The Bachelor’s Baby #1233

  A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing #1349

  The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart #1383

  And Then He Kissed Me #1405

  TERESA SOUTHWICK

  is a native Californian with ties to each coast, since she was conceived in the East and born in the West. Living with her husband of twenty-five years and two handsome sons, she is surrounded by heroes. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof and, above all—happy endings.

  Teresa also writes historical romance novels under the same name.

  Chapter One

  “No kissing, Nick.”

  Abigail Ridgeway hurried past the wall of TV screens, all displaying the same Sunday football game.

  “C’mon, Ab. What harm can a little kiss do?”

  She stopped abruptly and turned. Six feet, two inches of Nick Marchetti made contact with some red-light parts of her five-foot-two-inch frame. He was her boss first, her friend second, and a hunk and a half she’d long ago placed a distant third.

  She put a safe space between them now and looked up, way up. “This is not negotiable,” she said. “There will be no hanky-panky, and that’s final.”

  “Your expectations are unrealistic.”

  “Maybe. But you talked me into having this sweetsixteen birthday party for my sister. I should at least get to set the ground rules,” she said.

  “Okay. But I’m warning you. A guy always wants what he can’t have.”

  She grinned at him. “Is that personal experience talking? The man who has everything? When did anyone ever tell you no?”

  Abby hadn’t thought his eyes could get any blacker, but they did. Intensity vibrated through him as he ran a hand through his short dark hair. His nose was straight, well-formed, and the wonderful masculine angles and planes of his face seemed to harden for a moment. She wondered what button she’d innocently put her finger on and how she could push it again. That was a wicked thought, and she made a mental note to work on her contrary streak.

  But around Nick she sometimes couldn’t help it. He was always so self-possessed that it was hard not to cheer when she discovered a chink in his armor. He had everything: beauty, brains, body, booty—as in more money than he knew what to do with. Anything that brought him down to the level of peons like herself seemed fair.

  “This isn’t about me, Abby. It’s about Sarah. A girl only turns sweet sixteen once. It’s a milestone. There should be some fanfare,” he said, neatly circumventing her question. “Even though she asked me to convince you to let her have a party, I know you want it to be a success.”

  He’d turned the conversation back to her. In the five years she’d known him, she’d learned he was good at that. He had elevated the sidestep to an art form. “Okay. But Sarah is my responsibility. I’m her guardian. If my parents were still alive, maybe they would go along with your theory that a spirited game of spin the bottle is practically carved in stone at a teenage party. I disagree.”

  “Maybe you’re right to be cautious. It’s a well-known fact that sixteen-year-old, hormone-crazed boys have the hots for older women.” He tapped her nose. “That would be you.”

  She frowned up at him. “Is this some new management technique? Did you learn this at that seminar? Fractured reverse psychology?”

  “You’re not buying it?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Call me crazy, but I think kissing games among teenagers that I’ll be responsible for is asking for trouble. Just a guess, instinct really. But that’s all I’ve got.”

  “You’ve got me, pal,” he answered, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit slacks. His sinfully expensive matching jacket parted with the movement, revealing a costly, crisp white shirt that hinted at the washboard stomach beneath it.

  “Right,” she said, forcing her wayward thoughts in a different direction. “You’re awfully dressed up for late Sunday afternoon. I thought you were supposed to be off. Are you working today? Or do you have a date?”

  “Both,” he said.

  Nick Marchetti was a notorious work
aholic. She glanced sideways at her reflection in the blank bigscreen TV next to her that doubled for a mirror. Smoothing her own rumpled suit skirt, she was abruptly reminded that she was on a break from work. Nick wasn’t the boss that she reported to on a daily basis. He was her boss, as in president of Marchetti’s Inc., big kahuna of the whole corporation.

  She brushed a strand of her short blond bob back into place, fluffed her straight bangs, then turned and met Nick’s gaze. “I didn’t realize you had plans for the evening or that you were working. Was there something specific you needed when you stopped in to the restaurant?”

  He hesitated only a moment before answering with a shake of his head. “Just the usual.”

  She nodded. “Lucky for me you were free to help with my shopping. Although I have to get back to the restaurant soon. Can we table the party-games discussion to another time? Right now I need the expertise you so generously offered. This electronic stuff is confusing. I don’t know a woofer from a hooter.”

  “I think you mean tweeter,” he said, his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh.

  “See? What I know about these little black boxes with their digital readouts would fit on the head of a pin.”

  “Well I certainly feel cheap, degraded and disposable.” His voice dripped with hurt feelings. He was such a faker.

  She put her hand on her hip. “What are you talking about?”

  “You want my expertise on electronic stuff, but not teenagers.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I feel so used.”

  She wanted to laugh, slug him gently in the arm and tell him to stuff a sock in it. But she was afraid that would be too forward. Nick made it easy to fall into friendly and familiar behavior. But Abby had an unbreakable law: always remember your position. Translation: never under any circumstances overstep your boundaries. There was only one problem—she was never quite sure where the line was. Maybe because of their shared history.

  She had Nick to thank for her very first waitressing job. When she was eighteen, her parents had died in an automobile accident. Sarah had been eleven then. With no relatives to help, Abby had suddenly and shockingly become responsible for herself, as well as mother and father to her little sister. Although a total stranger, Nick gave her a job when no one else would. She’d walked into the restaurant he was managing at the time and asked for work. Abby had vowed to be his best employee ever, and so far she’d done well She had worked her way through the ranks to assistant-manager-in-training of the local Marchetti’s. She never let herself forget her promise to do him proud.

  At all times, she tried to maintain a professional demeanor around him. But then he would say or do something outrageous, and she would forget that he was her boss. The buck stopped with him. He signed her paycheck. Actually his brother Luke did, but it was almost the same thing. It was okay for him to think of them as friends, but she knew better.

  “The party is a month away,” she said, instead of the teasing words on the tip of her tongue. “We have plenty of time to debate the issue of spin the bottle. But this sale is over today. I promised Sarah a CD player for her birthday. Good, bad or indifferent, I need to make a decision. Are you going to help me or—” she glanced at the milling salesmen “—let the circling sharks move in for the kill?”

  He took her elbow and spun her toward the far wall filled with disc players and speakers. “You’d best thank your lucky stars that chivalry is alive and well.” When she didn’t say anything, he looked down at her and said, “What? No pithy comeback?”

  She shook her head. “When you’re right, you’re right. I appreciate your help. If you’d told me you had a dinner date when you dropped in to the restaurant, I wouldn’t have imposed.”

  “You’re not imposing.”

  “You’re sure I’m not keeping you?”

  “Nope. I’ve got plenty of time.”

  She looked at the display of equipment. “Should I go cheap, expensive or middle of the road? Should I sacrifice quality for features? Or get top-notch basic for the least amount of money?”

  Nick pointed to a unit. “This is a good brand. It has all the features Sarah could possibly want. Unless she’s missing the same electronic gene that you are. I think the cost is reasonable.”

  Abby’s eyes widened as she looked at the price tag. “Maybe it’s reasonable for a Marchetti. But it’s way out of the Ridgeway budget—even at forty percent off.”

  “I could—”

  “That’s very nice of you, Nick. But I can’t allow you to do it.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Excuse me, I shouldn’t have interrupted. Speak your piece, then I’ll refuse your offer to buy it for Sarah.”

  “I was going to suggest that you let me chip in. I don’t know what to get her. You would be doing me a favor.”

  Abby knew this was one of his charitable gestures. He always found a way to make it seem as if it wasn’t, but she had his number. His gift for creative maneuvering was probably the reason he’d taken Marchetti’s from a successful restaurant to the fastest-growing chain in the Southwest. She wasn’t sure why his benevolence suddenly rankled. Maybe because she was this close to finishing her degree, and would soon—finally—feel more independent. She didn’t need his help. Along with her wicked streak, she would have to work on this inclination toward ingratitude that had only lately reared its ugly head.

  Nick had been there for her when she had desperately needed someone. She had always tried to take care of things by herself, but he had never refused a request for help. Why did she now feel the need to do things on her own?

  “I’ll get the less expensive one,” she said, pointing to another model by the same manufacturer. “It’s a big-sister thing. I want to buy this for Sarah.”

  “What am I going to get her? I don’t know much about sixteen-year-old girls.”

  “You knew she was dying to have a party.”

  “Kids love parties. That’s not gender-specific. Besides, she told me. But the pressure of finding the right gift for a girl—”

  “I’m sure Madison would be happy to help you pick something appropriate.” Madison. A sophisticated name for a classy woman who was also beautiful, unusual—and Nick’s girlfriend.

  Abby had often seen them together. In addition to work-related functions, he frequently took her to dinner at the restaurant where Abby worked. He said he could always count on her to make sure the service and food were flawless. Abby figured he was showing off the beautiful, brilliant, back-East-educated Madison. She couldn’t remember any woman in his life lasting as long as Ms. Wainright.

  He had a funny look on his face. “Why don’t you like her? Madison’s a class act.”

  When had he learned to read her mind, Abby wondered? It wasn’t that she disliked the other woman. Just that Madison left her feeling woefully inadequate. Madison was everything that Abby wasn’t. She bent over a pile of boxes to check model numbers, in order to pick out the disc player she’d chosen. “I didn’t say I disliked Madison.”

  “No, but your tone spoke volumes about your feelings. Would you care to put them into words?”

  “It’s not my place to say anything.”

  “Is it safe to say that you believe she’s not my type?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which means I’m not a class act?” He raised one black eyebrow, but humor sparkled in his gaze.

  “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  “In the six months Madison and I have dated, she’s been nothing less than charming, beautiful, smart and successful. She would be an asset to any man.”

  She would certainly be his equal: beauty, brains, body, booty. But he was right. For some reason Abby couldn’t put her finger on, she did think Madison Wainright was wrong for him.

  Abby often wondered how a great guy like Nick Marchetti, who was good-looking enough to tempt a card-carrying spinster, had managed to stay single. Since he’d introduced the subject, she brought up a question she just couldn�
�t hold back.

  “So why haven’t you asked Madison to marry you?”

  “Is there a rule somewhere that says if a man admires positive attributes in a woman, he has to propose to her?”

  “Whoa. Just a little defensive, aren’t we?”

  “Nope. Not me.” He looked sheepish. “Maybe. But only because my mother and sister have been on my case.”

  “Ever since Rosie got married and had her baby, you’ve softened on the settling-down issue. I get the impression that you’re thinking about it.”

  “It’s crossed my mind.”

  “So when are you going to ask Madison?”

  He leaned a shoulder against the display rack and folded his arms across his chest. “When are you going to settle down?”

  “I’ve been settled down since I was eighteen. I’m heading toward footloose and fancy-free. In slightly less than two years, Sarah will graduate from high school and go to college. I see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  “You’re still not dating, are you?”

  Abby wondered how he could know that, when she was so careful to keep her personal and business lives separate. If he hadn’t shown up at the restaurant and insisted, she wouldn’t be shopping with him now. How could he know she didn’t go out?

  Then it hit her. Sarah didn’t work for him and had no compunction about calling him up at the drop of a fingernail. She bent his ear with anything and everything that popped into her head. As far as Abby knew, he didn’t mind. She figured if he did, any man who stood at the helm of a growing corporation could certainly clear the decks of one teenage girl if he wanted to. And Sarah was a talker. If talking was an Olympic event, her sister would take the gold.

  “It’s not like I can wiggle my nose and a man appears in a puff of smoke,” Abby said. Now who was getting defensive, she thought, hearing that note in her voice.