Valentine's Fantasy: When Valentines CollideTo Love Again

by Adrianne Byrd

  Five years ago, when he was thirty, he joined the San Francisco police department. He made detective two years later.

  Now, he reached for the vase that Alana was still holding in her arms and placed it on the counter. He then hugged her with gusto. “You have made me so happy,” he said, his deep voice lapsing into a Spanish accent as it did when he was angry or excited, or in this case, ecstatic.

  Their eyes were locked. “It only took a phone call,” Alana said. “Mama Setera was pleased to know that her baby boy is being well fed so far away from home.”

  Alana should have known something had changed between them by the passionate expression in Nico’s warm brown eyes. However, in the heat of the moment, she misread his signals and shrugging out of his embrace, she pleaded the need to get back to preparing dinner and pressed him into service by asking him to set the table. Something to keep his hands busy.

  The dinner conversation was warm and animated as always. Nico declared that the arroz con pollo was “Muy delicioso.”

  After dinner, as they stood side-by-side at the sink washing dishes, Alana suddenly felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. Admittedly it was a singularly erotic sensation, but it unnerved her to realize her close proximity to Nico was causing the reaction. She glanced at him sideways. He was watching her intently, his sexy eyes speaking volumes. Her heart thumped excitedly. He smiled. She flushed. Her golden-brown skin was tinged red from her neck to her ears.

  She looked away first, going to the pantry to get a clean dish towel. She didn’t really need one, but the trip afforded her a few seconds’ respite from his overpowering sexuality.

  When she turned back around, Nico was still watching her. She wondered if it was possible for a man to seduce a woman with just his eyes. She felt herself weakening under his gaze.

  “Would you excuse me?” she said a bit breathlessly. She handed him the dish towel. “You start drying. I’ll be right back.”

  In the bathroom she splashed cold water on her face and neck, hoping it would cool the embarrassing heat that threatened to consume her. Her big brown eyes held a frightened expression in them. She was attracted to Nicholas Setera. Her husband’s best friend. Her best friend, for God’s sake.

  Okay, to be honest, she’d always been attracted to him. The man was a splendid specimen. But that was simply aesthetics. She could admire a work of art without becoming emotionally attached to it. Couldn’t she?

  She sat on the toilet seat and tried to reason her way through her dilemma. She missed intimacy. It had been nearly a year since Michael was taken away from her, and hence it had been a very long time since she’d been with a man. Not that she missed sex so much. It was just that she and Michael shared a very passionate sex life, and once you’ve had that, to be totally bereft of it makes one even more aware of what you were no longer getting.

  Being in Nico’s presence was a constant reminder. He exuded sensuality. No, the man fairly reeked of it. It was present in the shape of those bedroom eyes and the sooty lashes that framed them. It was in the way his wide, mobile mouth turned up at the corners when he smiled. The play of the muscles in his back when he was walking out her door. The symmetry of his long tanned body. The strength of his hands. Even his feet with the neatly manicured nails and graceful arches were sexy. She made a mental note not to go to the beach with him anymore. In warm weather the beach was one of their favorite places to frolic. Now, however, she didn’t think she had the willpower to watch him come out of the water, his trunks clinging to him. What was wrong with her? She had to gain control over her thoughts before she returned to the kitchen and Nico’s scrutiny.

  “Alana! Are you all right?” Nico asked, knocking on the door.

  “I’m fine. I’m just reapplying my makeup,” Alana lied, attempting to stall for time.

  “Don’t do that on my account, I think you’re beautiful without it,” Nico said innocently enough.

  Beautiful? He’d never called her beautiful before. Wasn’t there a law against using that word to describe a pal? “You look...decent” or “You won’t frighten small children,” were acceptable. But beautiful? Nah. He’d definitely crossed the line of decency.

  Livid, Alana quickly dried her face, came out of the bathroom and plowed right into Nico, who was standing in the hallway. Nico reached out to steady her on her feet, and she angrily jerked her arm free of his hold.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Alana said accusingly, storming past him.

  Puzzled, Nico placed a hand on his chest as if to say, “Who me?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Alana tossed over her shoulder.

  “Ay!” Nico exclaimed in exasperation as he caught up with her in the middle of the living room.

  They faced one another. Nico stood with his arms crossed at his chest, looking down into Alana’s upturned face. He sighed. She impatiently tapped her right foot on the carpet, awaiting his apology.

  Nico’s voice was low and controlled when he spoke. “You are...” rolling his r’s, “upset with me because I think you’re beautiful?” he said incredulously.

  Alana tried to discern whether he was actually oblivious to his effect on her or if he was being obtuse. His eyes raked over her, sending her temperature skyward once more.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” she said, backing away from him. “You’ve got to stop looking at me like that.”

  Nico had grinned at her. His sexy eyes looked her up and down. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re the Big Bad Wolf and I’m Little Red Riding Hood, that’s what.”

  Nico closed the space between them in a couple of steps. Grasping her by the shoulders, he pulled her hard against his chest. For a millisecond, Alana thought of resisting him, but although her mind was strong, her body was decidedly weaker.

  She fit easily in his embrace. At that moment she could have been convinced that she’d been born to be in his arms.

  “Don’t be afraid of your feelings, Lana. It’s me, Nico. I would never hurt you,” Nico said in her ear. “Querida. Mi corazon.”

  Alana, being fairly fluent in Spanish, knew what those words meant: Darling. My heart. She didn’t want to think about what his words would portend though. For the time being, she was giddy with happiness, completely lost in the sensual quality of their bodies touching.

  One of his hands was at the base of her spine, igniting sparks of sexual longing that she’d held in check for far too long. His other hand was in her hair, at the back of her neck, gently massaging her there.

  “Te quiero, Lana,” he murmured huskily. I love you. I want you. They meant the same thing in the midst of passion. Nico bent his head to kiss her, and she met his mouth with the full force of her emotions. A little gasp escaped from between her lips as they parted to allow him access.

  He was gentle, not wanting to be too aggressive. Yet he was thorough, exploring her with the intensity of a lover with more than kissing on his mind. It was foreplay on the most intimate level.

  The hand that had been caressing the back of her neck moved downward to the hem of her blouse, then, to rest on her hips. Their bodies pressed closer, and Alana’s five-feet seven-inch frame wrapped itself around his six feet. Without missing a beat, they walked crablike over to the couch and fell onto it, Alana on top of him.

  That’s when she felt his arousal, and her feverish mind registered what she was doing: making out on her living room couch with her husband’s best friend. She hastily got up off of him, straightening her blouse as she did so.

  “Oh, my God, Nico. This can’t happen. We can’t do this. It isn’t right.”

  Nico got to his feet. After tucking in his shirt, he looked into her eyes. “Lana, this may not be the best time to tell you this, but I’ve been in love with you for a very long time. At least two years before Michael was killed. I would never have told you if Michael had lived, God rest his soul, but Michael is no longer with us.”

  He stood close to
her, his hand on her arm. His warm brown eyes were pleading as he continued, “I know you love me, Lana. I’ve seen it in the way you look at me. And tonight, when we touched as lovers do, I felt the power of your desire. Please don’t make me wait any longer. I need you.”

  “I need...” Alana began, but couldn’t finish. What did she need? To make love to Nico with such abandon that all the pain of the last thirteen months would be forgotten...if only for one night? That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  “I need time to think this through,” she said at last. Her large brown eyes were filled with remorse. She knew she was hurting him, but it was better to give herself time to decide what her true feelings for him were than to jump into a relationship and find out later that he’d only been a convenient stand-in for Michael. She was too fond of Nico to use him in that manner.

  Sighing, Nico allowed his arms to fall resignedly at his sides. He walked over to the door and placed his right hand on the doorknob. His eyes were on her face. “Are you throwing me out?” There was a glint of humor in his brown depths.

  “I’m throwing you out,” Alana confirmed, unable to hold back a gentle smile.

  “Forever?” he said. A dimple appeared in his left cheek.

  “You’re the best friend I have,” Alana replied honestly. She frowned. “Of course not forever.”

  Nico opened the door and turned to look back at her as though he was trying to commit her present facial expression to memory. “I won’t phone you until you contact me,” he promised. “I love you, Lana.”

  “I love you,” Alana returned.

  He left without another backward glance.

  Chapter 2

  After Peanut was taken to a holding cell, Nico went to the officer’s lounge to get himself a cup of decaffeinated coffee. He didn’t drink the real stuff because, at the end of a long day, it left his nerves jagged around the edges—hence making it nearly impossible to get a good night’s rest.

  As he walked back into the outer office, a large, open room that was the workplace of the dedicated men and women who comprised the Vice squad, he saw Alana coming through the door. He nearly spilled his coffee as he spun on his heels and went back into the lounge. Another officer, Eric Bilkis, a big, burly redhead was coming out of the lounge at that instant and collided with Nico.

  “Hey, man, haven’t you ever heard of turn signals?” Eric joked.

  “Sorry, Red. There’s a lady out there I’m not keen on seeing, if you know what I mean,” Nico told him.

  “You bachelors,” Red said, grinning. “Now if you treated a lady like a lady should be treated, you wouldn’t be hiding in lounges.”

  He craned his neck, looking out over the office. “Which one is she? The blonde at Gardner’s desk? The brunette talking to Brewster?”

  “No,” Nico replied, his eyes on Alana’s face. She didn’t look happy. She was probably there to tell him to stay out of her life. He couldn’t bear to hear those words coming from her mouth. “It’s the beautiful lady in the blue suit.”

  “You need your head examined, my man,” Red said as he watched Alana with admiration. Then, “Hey, she looks familiar. I know I’ve seen her before. Wait a minute. Isn’t she Michael Calloway’s widow?”

  “Yes,” Nico hesitantly admitted.

  “You dog!” Red guffawed. “You need to be hiding.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Red,” Nico warned through clenched teeth. “I hold that woman in the highest esteem and would be willing to fight anyone who doesn’t.”

  Eyebrows arched in surprise, Red said, “Oh, it’s like that, is it? Well, okay, it’s about time you took the plunge, Setera. No more making us married guys looks like wimps because we jump when our wives say jump. Now you’ve got a ring through your nose. I’m liking this. Maybe I should go tell the little lady where you are. You’d have more privacy in here than out there.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Nico said. “I’ll go to her.”

  He took a good swig of his coffee, poured the rest of it down the sink, then tossed the empty container into the trash. Mentally steeling himself, he left the lounge with a smiling Red looking after him, giving him the thumbs-up sign.

  That was the problem with being friends with so many of my co-workers, Nico thought. They’re always giving me unsolicited advice. Not that he wouldn’t have had the nerve to face Alana without the prodding. After seeing the expression on her face, the blatant fear, he wouldn’t have made it through the day without finding out what was on her mind.

  A modicum of his own anxiety dissipated when Alana turned, saw him, and smiled at him. Perhaps she hadn’t come to lower the boom after all.

  She approached him in a rush and fell into his open arms. Her full mouth was turned up in a sensual smile. “I was beginning to wonder where you were. I thought that maybe you’d gone undercover.”

  Her brown eyes were searching his face. “You wouldn’t do that without informing me, would you?”

  “No, Alana,” Nico said quietly. His voice, alone, assured her.

  Relieved, Alana sighed. “Thanks for the roses. They were beautiful and the poem, too.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you,” Nico returned the sentiment. He hugged her tightly, not caring that they’d become the center of attention in the busy office. “How have you been?”

  “Lonely. There were many times I’d pick up the phone to call you and replaced the receiver because I still have so many unanswered questions. And now this...”

  Alana reached into her shoulder bag and retrieved the letter she’d received in the morning’s mail. She handed it to Nico, who read it.

  “Butterfly was Michael’s pet name for me,” Alana explained. “He called me that because of—”

  “A butterfly shaped birthmark you have on your bottom,” Nico supplied effortlessly.

  Alana’s smile faded. She felt her cheeks grow hot. “He told you something that personal?” she whispered.

  “You’d be surprised by what partners talk about on a stakeout,” Nico said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

  As he passed his desk, he paused to remove his jacket from the hat tree near it. As a detective he wasn’t required to wear a uniform, and today was wearing a tailored blue suit with a crisp, white, long-sleeved, buttoned-down shirt that he’d rolled up at the sleeves. He unrolled the sleeves, buttoning them at the wrists, and slipped into the jacket with a little assist from Alana.

  They went outside, around the side of the building, and found a wooden bench in the shade of a palm tree. Sitting down, Nico regarded her with a concerned look in his eyes.

  “When did you get this?”

  “It was in today’s mail,” Alana replied.

  “It has a Los Angeles postmark. Whom do you know in L.A.?”

  “I have a few acquaintances in the business in Los Angeles,” Alana said. “And then there’s Bree...”

  “No,” Nico said with conviction. “Bree wouldn’t do this.”

  “I agree,” Alana said. “If this had come from Bree, she would have signed her name with a flourish. She and Georgie have both told me they think it’s time I started seeing someone.” Twins, Briane and Georgette Shaw were Alana’s oldest and dearest friends. They had grown up together.

  “The L.A. postmark doesn’t have to mean it came from someone in Los Angeles, just that it was mailed there. Someone close by could have had a friend mail it from L.A.,” Nico observed.

  “So you believe it’s meant to frighten me, and that we should be looking for someone with a sinister agenda?”

  “No, no,” Nico said quickly. “First of all, who but an acquaintance of yours or Michael’s would know his pet name for you? I believe it’s a practical joke. Their using Michael’s endearment for you was a tad much, but maybe it was simply an attention-grabbing device.”

  Alana agreed with Nico’s reasoning, but something else occurred to her and she wondered if he’d also thought
of it.

  “Nico, those unanswered questions I referred to earlier, maybe you can help me answer a few of them.”

  Nico knew where she was going. They’d discussed it before, and he’d always steered her away from it. But now, after everything that had happened between them, he wasn’t so inclined to protect his dead partner from Alana’s probing questions. He couldn’t hide the truth from her forever. And now he had a stake in the outcome.

  He frowned as he glanced down into her upturned face.

  “You’re not going to bring up your suspicions about Michael being unfaithful again, are you?”

  “The events leading up to his death just do not make sense to me, Nico. What was he doing in an Oakland neighborhood at three o’clock in the morning? Also, why did he tell me he was going to a poker game? I haven’t met anyone yet who could corroborate that lie. And another thing: for months before his death Michael was drawing away from me. He was cold, abrasive. He was like a man with a lot on his mind, things he definitely didn’t want to share with his wife. I swear, Nico. I think he was cheating on me.”

  Nico grasped one of her hands, squeezing it gently. “Alana, I know Michael loved you.” Looking into her eyes, he continued. “You say he was secretive, distant, he snapped at you for no reason at all. Maybe he was involved in something he shouldn’t have been, but it didn’t have to be an illicit affair. He could have been doing something illegal.”

  Michael being on the take was more difficult for Alana to believe than his having an affair. The Michael she knew was honest and steadfast. The product of a broken home, he seemed to value his home life all the more for it. A man who had never known his own father, he often talked of being a parent, a good parent, to his and Alana’s future children. He was a handsome man. She imagined women threw themselves at him. His resolve could have weakened.

  “Do you have any evidence to back up these allegations?” Alana asked of Nico’s comment about her husband.

  “Do you have any evidence to back up your suspicions?” Nico countered.

  Standing, Alana took the slip of paper with the message on it out of his hand. She shoved it deep into her shoulder bag. “No, but I plan to get some,” she replied, looking down at him, her dark eyes determined.