The Last Santini Virgin

by Maureen Child

  She stopped only long enough to open the front door. Then she pushed him through it and onto the landing.

  “That’s what you’re thinking, though, isn’t it?” she snapped.

  If he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t admit it.

  “You really are a Neanderthal, aren’t you?” Glaring up at him. “This isn’t the 1890’s, you boob! A woman doesn’t have to be married to have a child.”

  “No she doesn’t,” he said. “But it makes life a damn sight easier.”

  A cold winter wind whistled in off the ocean, and gooseflesh raced across his bare chest and back. A splash of water on his shoulder told him it was starting to rain, and Nick could only think that that would be the perfect ending to this little scene.

  He hadn’t meant to insult her. Just to warn her. Something she hadn’t bothered to do for him. Damn it, if he’d known she was a virgin, he never would have slept with her. Virgins were too dangerous. They made too much out of something that was as natural as breathing.

  Except, apparently, for this particular virgin. Wouldn’t you know Gina would be as different in this as she was in every other way from any woman he’d ever known?

  Gritting his teeth, he said simply, “Can I have my shirt and jacket?”

  She glared at him and slammed the door.

  It was as if the sound of that slamming door broke something in the sky. Because the clouds opened up, and rain sluiced down on him in a punishing torrent. A distant rumble of thunder only added to the dramatics.

  He stared at the closed door for another minute or so, wondering if he should break it down and demand she talk to him again. An instant later that door opened up just long enough for his shirt and jacket to fly out and slap him in the face.

  Then she was gone, and when he heard the lock click into place, Nick cursed under his breath and stomped downstairs.

  Seven

  Over the roar of the rain, Gina heard the pounding of Nick’s feet on the stairs as he stomped off toward his car. She went up on her toes and peered out the peephole in the door, but she couldn’t see anything beyond her porch.

  Fine. She didn’t really want to see him, anyway, she thought as she fought to slow down her racing heartbeat. Slapping one hand to her chest, she shook her hair back from her face and sucked one deep breath after another into her lungs. But it didn’t help. She was still just as angry as she had been a few minutes ago.

  Damn him, anyway! He’d practically accused her of setting a mantrap and then springing it on him. Well, even if she had been looking for a husband—which she was not—she wouldn’t marry him. Not now.

  “Heck,” she muttered to the empty room, “I don’t even want to see him again!”

  But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. If you tell a lie and there’s no one there to hear it, is it still a lie? she wondered.

  Thankfully, the phone rang before she was forced to answer her own question. Hurrying across the room, she flopped down onto the couch, reached over and plucked the cordless phone from its cradle.

  “Hello?” she said, and winced when she heard the grouchy tone of her voice.

  “Gina?” A woman asked hesitantly.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Cecelia Thornton…”

  Gina’s mind raced. Thornton, Thornton. Then she had it. The Colonel’s wife she’d met in the parking lot after dance class. Good heavens, she’d forgotten all about their conversation.

  “Is this a bad time?” Cecelia asked.

  The absolute worst, she thought but didn’t say. Because whether she was in the mood to deal with this now or not, it was just what she needed to take her mind off the Marine who’d just marched out of her life.

  “Not at all,” she lied, and forced a smile, to give her words meaning. Then, pushing thoughts of Nick Paretti to one side, she listened as the Colonel’s wife talked.

  Nick checked his wristwatch again, then looked out the front windows. The street was practically empty. Winter nights in an ocean town were too cold and too damp to attract many evening strollers. Wisps of gray trailed in from the sea, stretching ghostly fingers across the asphalt, and overhead, fog lamps dropped puddles of yellow light onto the parking lot. A small collection of cars sat waiting for their owners’ return, and not one of them was Gina’s.

  Grumbling under his breath, he turned around again and let his gaze slide across the couples moving around the dance floor. Latin-flavored music swam through the room, and he told himself that since Gina had stood him up, at least he didn’t have to try to cha-cha.

  She could have shown up, he told himself, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. This was not the Gina he’d come to know in the last three weeks. He’d fully expected her to be here, waiting for him, ready to pick up their argument from last night.

  Instead, she’d left him standing alone like the wallflower nerd at a high school dance.

  “Where’s your partner tonight, Sergeant?”

  Mrs. Stanton’s voice came from close beside him, and he turned his head to look at her. Her blue eyes shone with interest, and a half smile curved her lips as she studied him.

  “I don’t know. Something must have come up.” Like cowardice, he thought.

  “Well,” the woman said, lifting one hand to pat her hair that was sprayed as stiff as a football helmet, “there’s no reason for you to miss a class simply because she has.” Extending her hand toward him, she said, “I’ll be your partner for the evening.”

  Oh, he didn’t think so. He had enough problems already.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and didn’t even notice her wince at the ma’am. “But I think I’ll just drive over and check on Gina. Maybe she had car trouble or something.”

  And as he spoke, other possibilities occurred to him. Hell, maybe she was sick. Maybe she was too sore to move. He didn’t know. He’d never been with a virgin before, and he hadn’t exactly been gentle last night, he reminded himself.

  Memories he’d been avoiding all day suddenly surged into his mind. Her touch, her sighs, her face as he pushed himself inside her. Along with the pleasure, he’d seen the flash of pain and discomfort dart across her features. Hell. As small as Gina was, he might have really hurt her.

  “Damn it,” he muttered thickly, and cursed himself for not having thought of this sooner. What if she’d been lying in bed all day in pain? Because of him? For all he knew, she was still lying there, trying to recover from what he’d done to her.

  Wiping one hand across his face, he mumbled, “Excuse me,” to Mrs. Stanton and headed for the door.

  Nick parked his car on the street in front of the Santini house, got out and closed the door. He simply stood there for a minute or two, studying the old, craftsman-style bungalow, with its wide front porch and the welcoming patches of lamplight shining through the windows. A couple of houses down a dog barked, and from a distance he heard the solid slam of a basketball against a backboard.

  A nice, quiet suburban street, where the neighbors would keep tabs on each other and the world could slide by unnoticed. Nick shrugged deeper into his jacket and glanced at the sky. At least he wouldn’t be rained on again. Stars glittered on a black sky, and the moon tossed shadows onto the street.

  He started up the driveway, his shoes crunching on loose bits of gravel. An ocean breeze kicked up out of nowhere, pushing at him with icy fingers, then going on to rattle naked tree limbs like dice in a cup.

  From inside the Santini house he heard the muted noise of the television set, snatches of voices and the sudden shout of a child’s laughter. Gina’s nephew, no doubt. As he neared the back porch, where he’d met Mrs. Santini only the night before, he glanced through the open curtains into the brightly lit kitchen and stopped dead.

  Gina wasn’t lying on a bed of pain.

  So much for his theory about why she’d skipped dance class. Scowling to himself, he took a step closer to the house and stared right at her. She sat at the kitchen table, a bowl of ice cream
in front of her, laughing at something the little boy across from her had said. Nick studied her for a long minute, not sure whether to be glad she was all right or mad that she’d stood him up. She wore a white sweatshirt, blue jeans and she had her dark, curly hair pulled into a short ponytail. She looked healthy, happy and too damned good.

  And he’d been worried about her.

  While, apparently, she hadn’t given him a thought.

  Small spurts of anger jumped into the pit of his stomach, and before he could think better of it, he was headed for the back door. He knocked loudly and rocked back and forth on his heels impatiently while he waited for her to answer.

  Gina opened the door, still smiling at Jeremy. But when she saw who was standing there glowering at her, her smile dissolved instantly. All day she’d kept thoughts of Nick at bay. Anytime her mind drew up the image of his face, she’d countered it by remembering the way last night had ended. Remembering the anger, the hurt.

  She’d even skipped the stupid dance class just so she could miss having to see Nick Paretti tonight. And what does he do? But she should have known. Nick wasn’t the kind of man to be dismissed that easily.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “You missed class,” he said.

  Well, duh. “I didn’t feel like going tonight.”

  “Why not?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Chicken?”

  Her gaze narrowed on him. “I am not chicken,” she said, “though I have to say that sounds just a little juvenile, coming from one of ‘The Few, The Proud, The Annoying.’”

  “Damn it, Gina,” he snarled, “I was worried about you.”

  She drew her head back and looked up at him. “Now why would you worry about me? You made it perfectly clear last night that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “All I said was, I didn’t want to get married.”

  Gina kept her voice at a low pitch as she snapped, “And like I said, who asked you?”

  He sighed, unfolded his arms and reached out to grab hold of her, but she stepped back quickly. All she needed to shatter her weak defenses was his touch lighting up her insides like a fireworks display.

  “Damn it, Gina,” he grumbled, “we need to talk.”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, we were going to talk last night and look what happened.”

  “Who is it, Aunt Gina?” Jeremy asked from behind her.

  She winced slightly and turned to look at the boy over her shoulder. Her nephew was watching her closely, and she knew that if she didn’t get Nick out of there quick, the boy would be asking all kinds of questions and then running off to the den to report on what he’d observed to his mother and grandmother.

  Forcing a smile she really didn’t feel, she said, “He’s a friend of mine. I just need to tell him something. I’ll be back inside in a minute, kiddo.”

  “Okay, but your ice cream’s melting,” he warned.

  “You finish it for me, okay?”

  “All right!”

  Well, Jeremy’s attentions had been diverted at least. Now all she had to do was contend with a certain Marine.

  Stepping out onto the porch, she closed the door behind her and moved as far back from Nick as possible. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t far at all, since the back porch was really nothing more than a wide top step.

  “A friend?” he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

  “What did you want me to tell him?” she asked. “That my lover of one night is here to start another fight?”

  She heard his back teeth grind together.

  “I didn’t come here to fight,” he said. “I told you. When you didn’t show up, I thought maybe something was wrong with you.”

  Besides bruised feelings? she thought. No, there was nothing wrong with her that having her head examined wouldn’t cure. What had she been thinking last night? Then the answer to that question popped into her mind. She hadn’t been thinking at all.

  “Look, Nick, I’m sorry you were worried, but you can see I’m fine. So why don’t you just go away?”

  He shook his head, and she almost groaned at the stubborn expression on his face. Was he really that blind? That clueless? Couldn’t he tell she didn’t want to see him right now?

  “Because we have to talk about what happened last night.”

  “Oh, no, we don’t,” she said. “Besides, there’s nothing to say.” She took the steps down to the driveway, where she wouldn’t feel so hemmed in between his broad chest and the house.

  He followed her down, and she backed up a step or two, not because she was nervous, but because despite the still-smoldering coals of her anger, just being near him was turning her bones to butter again.

  Shoving one hand across the top of his head, Nick looked down at her and said, “You don’t have to avoid me.”

  “Who’s avoiding you?” she asked, and heard her voice crack, blast it.

  “You are.”

  “No, I’m not,” she argued, even though she knew she wasn’t being very convincing. “I was just…tired, that’s all. So I didn’t show up for class.”

  She turned away from him and busied herself straightening out the car cover on Angela’s new car. Her sister was so proud of the darn thing she did everything but sing it to sleep at night.

  His hands came down on her shoulders, and he spun her around to face him. “That’s not why you didn’t show, and we both know it.”

  She squirmed out from under his touch before the warmth of his hands wormed its way into her bones. She did not need to start feeling warm fuzzies for this guy. It would be much safer to keep an angry distance between them. “It’s really none of your business why I didn’t show up.”

  “Lady,” he argued tightly, “you are my business.”

  Okay, that got her attention. “Since when did I become your business?” she snapped.

  “Since last night.”

  “Will you get over yourself?” Gina said, stomping away from him, farther down the driveway. She didn’t want her mother and sister and Jeremy trotting out to find out what was going on. And she sure as heck wasn’t going to invite him back into her apartment. So the safest place for them to talk would be out in the street. By his car. So he could leave immediately afterward.

  The cold wind whipped past her, tossing her hair into her eyes and sending goose flesh racing up and down her spine. This was great. She’d probably get pneumonia. He was right behind her. She heard his footsteps slapping against the asphalt and hurried her own steps to keep ahead of him.

  “Damn it, Gina,” he said, and grabbed at her hand, dragging her to a stop at the end of the driveway. “Talk to me.”

  “You want me to talk?” she asked in a low hiss of sound. “Fine. I’ll talk. You listen. I am not your business. You don’t want a relationship? Well goody for you,” she said, tipping her head back to glare up at him. “Neither do I. And that includes having an overgrown Boy Scout as a personal bodyguard.”

  He gave her a fierce scowl, and she got a brief glimpse of the professional soldier in him.

  “I’m no Boy Scout, honey,” he told her, his voice as low and furious as hers. “And as for guarding that body, I wouldn’t trust myself, because right now all I can think about is kissing you again, and that wouldn’t get us anywhere.”

  A flash of expectation roared through her, and Gina valiantly fought it down. Darn him, anyway. She didn’t want to want him. But it seemed as if her body had ideas of its own. She sucked in a gulp of damp night air, hoping to put out the fires already beginning to build in her blood again. It didn’t help. Best to just get him out of there, but quick.

  She gave a look up and down the quiet street, grateful to see they were alone. On a cold winter night, most of her neighbors could be found sitting in front of either a fireplace or a television set.

  “Listen up, General,” she said as calmly as she could. “We had sex. That’s all.” Oh, brother, even she didn’t believe that one. It had been more than sex. Mor
e than—she couldn’t even come up with a halfway-decent comparison. But the main point to be made here was a simple one. “I didn’t ask you to marry me. I didn’t weep and wail at your feet, begging to be taken care of.”

  A muscle in his jaw started twitching.

  “It was one night, Nick,” she reminded him. “Not forever.”

  “One night that just might lead to a baby.” He moved in close, actually looming over her.

  “I’m not pregnant,” she said, as firmly as she could. Who knew? Positive thinking couldn’t hurt.

  “And you know this how?”

  “I feel it,” she insisted.

  “Ah, so you’re psychic.”

  “Psychic enough to know you’re about to get kicked,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she watched him.

  “Look, Gina…”

  Suddenly tired, she shook her head. “We’re finished talking, Nick. Just go away,” she said, and turned around, headed for the house again.

  He stood there for a long minute, listening to the sounds of her tennis shoes on the asphalt. Then Nick grumbled under his breath and started after her. He caught up with her in a couple of steps and turned her toward him. Damn it, he’d come here to check on her and maybe to reassure himself that she wasn’t counting on him to be a boyfriend or a husband. He should be happy, blast it. He’d gotten exactly what he’d thought he wanted. He was in the clear. She couldn’t make it more plain that she wasn’t interested in him. Hell, she’d practically ordered him to leave.

  So why was it that all he could think of was grabbing her and kissing her and doing everything they’d done the night before and then some? It didn’t make sense. But then, nothing much had made sense to him since the night he’d met Gina Santini.

  “You can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.

  “I can if I try hard enough,” she argued.

  “No, you can’t,” he ground out. “Want to know how I know?”

  She shook her head, but he told her, anyway.

  “Because,” he said, bending down until his face was just a breath away from hers. He inhaled her perfume and remembered the sensation of drowning in her scent, making it a part of him. “I’ve been trying to do just that all day. Want to know how well it worked?”