Boardwalk Summer

by Kimberly Fisk

  Nick had wanted out of this place so badly he’d been willing to do anything. Even trust a woman who he knew he shouldn’t.

  If you believed her, it was because you wanted to.

  Hope had been right, at least partially so. Claire had offered him a pass. A way to save face from having to admit how completely he’d failed. When she had told him that Hope had moved on, he’d believed her. Not only because a part of him wanted to, but because it was what he’d expected all along. Besides, he had nothing to offer Hope. Less than nothing. And as the months turned into a year and then two, it looked like he never would. Even when he’d started to win, to make a name for himself, it still wasn’t enough. Hope deserved more. As the years passed and his fame grew, a part of him believed she’d finally reach out, try to contact him. But she never had. He’d briefly searched for her—for Hope Montgomery—but to no avail. Not that he’d looked all that hard, he was ashamed to admit. Now, he knew why he hadn’t been able to locate her. But back then, it had been further proof that she wanted nothing to do with him, and that rejection had fueled him with a renewed fervor. For a driver who was already laser-focused to the point of obsession, Nick pushed himself and his crew even harder. And the harder he pushed, the more records he broke and races he won. He was going to make damn sure when people heard his name, success was what came to mind. Not his past or his father.

  But as Nick stared out the windshield into the dark night, he couldn’t help but wonder if in sacrificing everything to become a legend, he hadn’t lost more than he’d gained.

  * * *

  HOPE stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in the thick white towel. She took another towel from the stack and twisted it around her wet hair, turban style. When she’d gotten back to her room, the first thing she’d done was call the hospital and check on Josh. The nurse, someone Hope hadn’t yet met, told her Josh was fine and sleeping. Hope had then called Susan’s cell but once again, her daughter hadn’t picked up. Hope left a brief message ending with I love you. She thought about checking in with Dana again but decided against it. There was no way Hope was up to a Dana inquisition. Hope’s thoughts were too jumbled, too erratic. So, instead, she’d done the next best thing; she’d taken a shower. For the last thirty minutes she’d stayed under the hot, hot cascading water just thinking and wondering.

  What Nick had said couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have called her all those years ago, could he? She knew her mother could be difficult at times—all right, all the time—but Claire wouldn’t withhold something that important, would she?

  Doubt and uncertainty filled Hope. If what Nick was saying was true, her mother had ruined whatever chances Joshua and Susan had at a real life with their father. Whatever chance Hope and Nick would have had.

  But no, that wasn’t entirely true.

  She picked up the small bottle of lotion the hotel provided and knocked some onto her palm. With quick, almost angry strokes, she rubbed it into her heated skin. If Nick had truly wanted to get hold of her, he would have. When Nick Fortune wanted something badly enough, he found a way to make it happen. And obviously he hadn’t wanted Hope enough. He wanted racing, just like he did now.

  She’d seen the look in his eyes when that young kid had come up for his autograph asking about this weekend’s race. She’d seen Nick’s disappointment that he wasn’t going to be there; instead he was stuck in a town he hated, with a woman he’d forgotten as easily as most people forgot the brand of toothpaste they used.

  But what about what he’d said to her? With dawning realization, she knew that she had played a part in this too. Yes, she’d been young and scared, but maybe she should have tried harder. But even as her mind said the words, she shook them off. It had been his phone that had been shut off. He was the one who hadn’t shown at the courthouse. He knew money or the lack thereof hadn’t meant anything to her. He just hadn’t wanted her. It was that clear. And he definitely hadn’t wanted a child—let alone two.

  She stood and unwound the towel from her head, angry at herself. Dwelling on the past was of so little importance right now. What mattered was her son and getting her mother tested.

  Hope used the towel to dry her hair as best she could and then plugged in the hotel hair dryer and finished the job. She thought about braiding her hair or pulling it up into a ponytail but dismissed the idea. She was only going to put on her pj’s and climb into bed with some late-night TV, so really, what was the point? Besides, it seemed like too much of an effort right now.

  Barefoot, she padded across the carpeted room and unzipped her small suitcase.

  She hadn’t packed pajamas. The realization hit even before she had the suitcase open. For reasons beyond her, she’d packed enough clothes for a week but not pajamas.

  She rifled through her clothes, looking for something she could use as a nightgown. Neatly folded in a soft pink pile at the bottom was the cashmere sweat suit Dana had bought her last Christmas. A luxurious and over-the-top gift Hope had loved even as she’d chided Dana for spending too much. But now Hope’s only thought was: Bless you. At least one of them had the presence of mind to pack something Hope could sleep in.

  She put it on, finding comfort in its softness. In a matter of moments she had the bathroom picked up, the lights dimmed low, and the TV on. She knew sleep would be fleeting at best tonight, as it had been for the last several months. Not only would her normal worries and fears keep her awake, but so would thoughts of Nick, and what she’d learned. And thoughts about tomorrow. About Claire.

  She was just about to crawl into bed when a knock sounded on her door. She glanced at the bedside table. Nearly eleven. Fear landed in her stomach along with a familiar thought: Good news never arrived in the dark of night.

  Rushing to the door, she fumbled with the locks. “Yes? Who is it?”

  “It’s Nick. Can I come in?”

  Fifteen

  “NICK?” Hope fought with the deadbolt. “What is it? Did you hear from Mrs. Roseburg?” She finally managed to wrench the door open.

  Nick stood on the other side, two small cartons of gourmet ice cream in his hands. He held them up. “I owed you dessert.”

  “I thought something was wrong. I thought—”

  Genuine concern came over his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Relief filled her and without even questioning her actions, she opened the door wide, inviting him in. She knew it wasn’t the wisest move she’d ever made, but when had she ever done anything wise around Nick?

  He stepped past her and into the room. His presence filled the small space. That always seemed to happen with him. It wasn’t just that he was tall or broad and muscular. It was the little details that made the bigger impact. The way he looked a person straight in the eye and spoke with authority. He walked with a confidence she’d never seen in anyone else. He seemed one hundred percent comfortable in his body. A hint of his cologne—something that reminded Hope of the sea and the outdoors—drifted in with him.

  He’d changed since dinner. A worn pair of Levi’s hung low on his solid hips and a gray pullover stretched across his broad shoulders. She tried to keep her eyes off him, tried to concentrate on something—anything—but what her mind chose to focus on was something she’d been trying to forget: I did call.

  And he was here, with her, and missing his race.

  Nick walked over to the small table in the far corner and set the ice cream down along with two spoons and a handful of napkins. He looked around the room, paced over to the window. He brushed the curtain aside, gazed out for just a second, then drew his hand away and let the curtain fall closed once more. He turned back around and headed to the table. He toyed with one of the spoons he’d just placed there, then let it fall back onto the table.

  He seemed preoccupied, as if something heavy was weighing on his mind and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to go or stay. He picked up one of the carton
s and turned to face her.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the poor light in the room or what, but his blue eyes were darker than usual and unreadable.

  “Did you want some ice cream?” he asked.

  “No,” she said softly.

  He looked back to the carton in his hand. “Yeah, neither did I. But I wanted to see you.”

  “You don’t need to bring dessert to see me.”

  “Then what do I need to bring?”

  His question sent a rush of heat through her and rocked her off her axis. A hundred different answers passed through her, some of them simple and some sinful.

  “What do I need to bring?” he asked again but this time his voice was weighted.

  “Nothing.” Her voice was whisper soft.

  “Come on.” His voice was equally low but not soft. “A woman always knows what she wants.”

  I want you. Her heart betrayed her. She shook her head, not wanting to answer because she didn’t trust her own words not to betray her.

  Nick walked over to her, ran his hands up on the outside her arms. Even through the soft material, she could feel his touch, his warmth. Goose bumps pebbled her skin.

  I called.

  “I know what you should ask for.”

  “What?” The question was out before she could stop it.

  “This.” He cupped her cheeks in his warm hands, pulled her even closer.

  She knew she should act rationally, probably offer up a protest. But he was too close and too handsome and she wanted him too desperately, so that when he leaned down, and settled his mouth over hers, he effectively cut off any protests she might have had.

  The two kisses they’d shared earlier this week had been slow and lingering. This kiss reached the boiling point within seconds.

  For so many months, Hope had done her best to keep her feelings at bay. If she let herself feel, that meant she had to feel all her emotions. Including her fear. And opening herself up to that was too scary a thought to contemplate. But in Nick’s arms, with him pressed fully against her, holding her as close to him as he could, remaining numb was an impossibility. For the first time in months, she let go. She returned his kiss with equal intensity. As she deepened the kiss, she felt the hard length of him and was surprised when that knowledge didn’t frighten but excited the hell out of her. Knowing that just their kiss had done that to him, she felt bold and just a little bit wanton and completely out of character. But that didn’t stop her.

  She reached beneath his shirt, slid her hands slowly up his stomach. Beneath her touch, his hard muscles bunched and his hand tightened on her upper arm. Pure feminine satisfaction shot through her. Her hands continued their exploration, up his chest, across.

  “Ah, Hopeful, you don’t know what you do to me.” His rough voice tingled through her. He cupped the curve of her bottom with one hand, lifted her off the ground. With the new closeness, his mouth pressed deeper into hers.

  The whole world seemed to fade away and it was only the two of them.

  She tugged at his shirt, pulled it off. With his bare, broad chest in front of her, she did what she’d wanted to do ever since she’d first seen him on her lawn. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him close and laid her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart.

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. Then he gently tipped her chin up and pressed a kiss against her lips. His blue, blue eyes were passion-filled and she wondered if hers looked the same. He tugged at the bottom of her top, pulled it over her head, and tossed it aside. The moment her bare skin came into contact with his, a wanting so powerful swept through her.

  Nick pushed at her shoulders, separated them. Cool air rushed across her, puckering her already aroused nipples.

  He ran his hands down the outside of her thighs, effectively slipping off her pants. Soon she was standing naked in front of him. He pulled her back to him, devouring her in a hot, greedy kiss. His jeans bit into her and there was something deliciously wild about being completely naked while he was still partly clothed.

  She reached for the waistband of his jeans, tugged him close. She worked at the buttons on his fly. Her hand grazed his flat stomach and he sucked in a quick breath. Feeling bold and wanted, she looked up at him at the exact same moment she took a cue from him and slipped her hand down the front of his jeans.

  “Oh, God, Hopeful, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  She caressed the length of him. “I have no idea.”

  “Here, then. Let me show you.”

  And he did.

  He did things with his hands and mouth that sent her clear over the edge.

  He pressed his body against hers, forced her against the wall. At any other time she would have thought the weight of him would have been too much, but now . . . now it felt so right. He reached forward, grasped her thigh, and wrapped it around his waist. He ground his hips against her, pushing for and reaching a spot that sent shock waves through her body. His mouth found hers again and again. Deep, hot, sexy kisses. Kisses meant to entice and arouse and they did. He took her arms, lifted them above her head. He trailed kisses along her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. He nuzzled her ear, gently pushed her head to the side as he rained kisses down her neck. He continued his downward quest until his mouth hovered near her nipple. He blew hot breath against her, watched her nipple pucker even more. And just when she didn’t think she could endure the sweet torture a moment longer, he took her in his warm mouth and sucked. Hard. Long. And so deep she felt it to her core. And just when she thought she’d come undone, he began the process all over on her other breast. Over and over he whispered things, erotic words and evocative images that she knew at any other time would have embarrassed her straight down to her toes. But right now, nothing had ever felt so right.

  He growled low in his throat. “God, how I want you. How I’ve always wanted you.”

  His words sent a spiral of pure desire through her.

  She unwrapped her leg from around him, surprising him by freeing her hands and pushing him a short distance away. But his surprise quickly turned to desire when she tugged and pulled at his jeans until they were on the ground next to her scattered clothes. “Not as much as I want you.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  He was big and fully aroused, and Hope felt a pull deep inside her at the sight of him. She reached out, intent on taking control once more, but he wasn’t having any of that.

  He swung her up in his arms.

  Surprise had her eyes going wide, questioning him.

  “We’re going to do this right.”

  “I thought we were.”

  His chest rumbled with laughter, bumped against her warm skin. She loved the feel of him against her.

  “Do you realize”—the bed dipped as he carefully set her down—“that we’ve never made love in a bed?” His voice was husky.

  She reached over to turn the light off, but his hand stalled her.

  “Leave it on.”

  “But—”

  “I want to see you.” He turned the knob on the base twice, dimming the light. “That’s all the concession I’m going to make.” The look on his face promised her it would be more than worth it.

  He began to kiss each finger, her palm, up her arm. Desire coiled and tightened in her stomach and all she could think about was him. This moment.

  “I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

  Hope thought that was the nicest compliment she’d ever received.

  He pinned her hands above her head once more, held them there with one hand, while the other skimmed across her skin, seeking and exploring, pressing against the inside of her thighs until she opened to him.

  “God, you are so beautiful.” His voice was strained.

  She tensed, waiting for the touch she wanted so much.
And then his hand was there, between her thighs, sliding over her, stroking her.

  He leaned closer, his mouth only inches from hers. He settled himself over her, his warm chest pressed against her tender breasts. And then she felt him. When she didn’t think she’d be able to take this sweet torture another moment, he was there. And the torture she desired above anything began all over again.

  He was helping her to become someone she didn’t know but someone she so desperately wanted to be. When he thrust inside her, she wrapped her arms around him, pulled his head down to her. She closed her eyes, luxuriated in the feel of him. Rock-solid muscles weighted her down but at the same time set her free. She rose up to meet him, joined with him.

  He was looking at her, his gaze so intense, so filled with male hunger she felt herself sinking. And flying. Nothing else mattered. It was as if the whole world, and all of its problems, had slipped away and it was only her and him. And when she was lying next to him, her body pressed against his body, nothing had ever felt so right.

  * * *

  HOURS later, Nick rolled onto his back, careful not to wake Hope. After the night they’d had, he figured she’d need her sleep.

  Ever since he’d started racing, sleep had been elusive the last couple of nights before a race. Thoughts of the race, strategies and game plans, were uppermost on his mind. But tonight it wasn’t racing that kept him awake.

  The room was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The painting—a nondescript landscape—that had been hanging earlier was now propped against the wall, its hook broken. The comforter was pushed off onto the floor, right next to the pile of damp towels from their earlier shower. Looking at those towels had him remembering what they’d done under the water, and that had him wishing Hope were awake and reaching for him like she’d done before. Last night had been incredible. More than incredible.