He laughed.
He actually laughed.
Shocked, Gina stared at him. After two years of keeping that secret locked inside her, she finally tells someone and he laughs? Beyond fury, Gina reacted instinctively. She slugged him in the stomach and winced as her small fist met incredibly hard, muscled flesh.
“It’s not funny,” she said furiously, shaking her stinging hand.
“Of course it is!” he said, throwing his hands high. “Are you nuts?” he asked. “Is this poor mother you have to protect the same woman I met the other night?”
All right, so Marianne Santini didn’t seem like the kind of woman who needed taking care of. The point was, Gina had made a promise to her father, and she was going to keep it.
“You don’t know her,” she snapped. “You don’t know my family. You don’t know anything about us.”
“Maybe not, but I know a strong woman when I see one,” he countered. “What is she, fifty? Not exactly doddering. Besides,” he went on, “you have two sisters. If your mother needs care, it should be up to the three of you.”
Gina shook her head. He didn’t get it. This was hers. Mama would need her, and she would be there for her. “No. Angela has Jeremy to worry about. Marie just got married. She’ll be having her own family. It’s up to me.”
“Gina…” He moved in closer, his voice dropping as he reached for her. He wasn’t laughing now. Understanding glimmered in his eyes, but she didn’t want kindness from him. Not now.
“Don’t,” she said, hitching her shoulders and moving to one side.
“Okay,” he said softly, “but let me ask you this. Do you really think your father meant for you to give up your own life? Your own future? Do you think that’s what your mother would want?”
She’d asked herself those same questions countless times. But it didn’t matter what the answers were. She’d given her word. She’d promised her father as he lay dying that she would look after Mama. And a husband and children of her own would only complicate matters. How could she devote herself to a husband and children, when taking care of Mama—keeping her promise—had to come first?
Besides, she couldn’t ask a man to accept responsibility for her family. That was her job. Her duty. Her right.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly as the storm of emotion passed, leaving her suddenly more tired than she’d been earlier. “I made a promise.”
“I understand promises,” Nick said softly, “and I keep my word, too. We’ll stay in the contest, Gina. And we’ll win.”
She nodded.
He reached out and smoothed her hair back from her face before she could move away. Warmth skittered through her, and she looked up at him as he continued.
“Then, when we know one way or the other about the baby,” he said gently, “we’ll have another talk about promises.”
Eleven
The next week crawled by. Thoughts of Nick and their last real conversation plagued Gina almost constantly. Asleep, she dreamed about him. Awake, her mind refused to leave him.
She went through her days, trying to concentrate on reclaiming her life. Making it what it had been before Nick Paretti had marched into it. But then came the nights when they would meet for the dance class that had become a torturous experience. Being held by him, feeling his arms encircle her waist, his body press close to hers while all around them music swelled was far more difficult than she’d told herself it would be.
But she wouldn’t quit. She wouldn’t let him know that he’d been right. That spending three nights a week in his arms and the rest of the time away from him was becoming unbearable. In fact, her only consolation in all this was the sure knowledge that he was having as hard a time dealing with the situation as she was. She felt it in his touch. In the way he tried to hold her impersonally even while his gaze melted her bones.
Darn him, anyway, for confusing things. For two years she’d been resigned to a future that didn’t include a family of her own. She’d made a vow to her father and had accepted what that vow would cost her. She’d made peace with it. Now Nick Paretti storms into her life and throws a monkey wrench into everything.
Do you think your father meant for you to give up your own life? Is that what your mother would want?
The echo of Nick’s voice pounded through her head. As she listened to those questions reverberating over and over again, Gina had to admit she still didn’t have an answer. Why did he have to make this all so hard?
“Okay,” she said abruptly as she deliberately tucked thoughts of Nick into the deepest corner of her mind, “that’s enough. No more thinking. You have a barbecue party to throw, and it had better be a good one if you want anyone else to hire you.”
She didn’t even want to think about how lonely her voice sounded in the apartment and how she would probably spend the rest of her life talking to herself—because she wouldn’t have anyone else. She wouldn’t have Nick.
Once this barbecue and the dance contest were over, they’d go their separate ways. An ache settled around her heart, and she wondered sadly if it would be with her forever.
“Didn’t Gina do a lovely job,” Cecelia Thornton said, loudly enough to be heard above the muted roar of conversations rising around them.
Nick smiled and let his gaze sweep across the crowded scene.
Cobalt blue glasses in varying heights sat on the tables sprinkled around the backyard and across the brick patio. In the half-light of dusk the lit votive candles inside the glasses sent flickering points of blue flame sparkling around the yard. Red-and-white-checked tablecloths looked fresh and summery in the middle of winter and the navy-blue plastic dinnerware completed the patriotic theme. Red and white carnations in blue-and-white spatterware jugs adorned every table and an old-fashioned jukebox rented for the occasion sent big-band music from the forties drifting across the yard.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nick agreed, feeling a flash of pride in Gina’s accomplishment, “she really did.”
“It’s just what I wanted,” the woman went on as she had been doing for the last five minutes. “An old-fashioned picnic, informal but stylish. And it’s turned out beautifully. Even the weather cooperated.”
It had been a nice day, and now that the party was nearly over, Marines and their spouses milled around the backyard, talking and laughing. A few couples danced to the music floating out of the jukebox while others stood on the sidelines offering critiques. The scent of grilled steaks still hung in the air, and if he hadn’t known better, Nick would have sworn it was summer.
But if it were summer, then Gina wouldn’t have been here, pretending to be his girlfriend. She would be out of his life, and they would have already drifted apart. Strange how the thought of that opened up a dark hole inside him. His gaze shifted to the last place he’d seen her. She was still there, standing in the middle of a group of wives, laughing and talking as though she belonged. As though she were a part of this scene and not just playing a role.
A knot formed in his chest and tightened, threatening to close off his breath. Damn it, he wished it were real. He wished he and Gina really did have what they were only pretending to have. His gaze dropped to her flat abdomen, and for the first time he found himself almost hoping she was pregnant.
“Well,” Cecelia said, her gaze following his, “enjoy yourself, Gunnery Sergeant.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered dutifully, still stunned at the flood of new realizations swamping him. “I will.”
She moved off, and Nick hardly noticed she’d gone. All he could see was Gina. All he could think about was Gina. But since the night she’d told him about the promise she’d made to her father, Gina had never been far from his mind.
How could he have thought she was like his ex-wife? Kim wouldn’t have given up a day of shopping for someone else, let alone her future. He admired Gina’s ferocious loyalty toward her family. Hell, there was plenty he admired about Gina. Plenty he would miss.
That thought brought him up s
hort. Scowling to himself, he moved off toward the knee-high wall surrounding the Colonel’s yard. Away from the people, distanced from the music and the conversations, Nick rubbed the back of his neck viciously and told himself it didn’t matter. He’d never intended to be a part of Gina’s life. To be with her forever. He’d known from the beginning—from the first moment he’d seen her at that damned dance class, that this would be a temporary thing.
So why was it so hard now to acknowledge that their time together was almost over? Because, he told himself, he hadn’t counted on loving her. Love?
“Hey, Gunny,” a deep, familiar voice shook Nick from his thoughts, and he reluctantly looked away from Gina to face the man walking toward him.
“Hi.”
First Sergeant Dan Mahoney stopped alongside him, took a drink of his beer, then used the long-necked bottle to point across the yard at Gina. “Pretty woman.”
Nick shot his friend a suspicious glance. The man had a hell of a reputation with women. “Yeah? What’s your point?”
Dan shrugged good-naturedly. “The point is, are you two an item or not?”
A good question. One he didn’t have an answer to. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re supposed to be here together, but I don’t see you together much.”
“So?”
“So,” Dan said, “if you’re not interested in her…”
“Who said I wasn’t interested?” Nick straightened up and glared at his friend.
“So why are you here with me when you could be over there with her?”
A long minute ticked by as Dan’s words sank in. Finally Nick laughed shortly. He had so little time left with her, and instead of being with her every minute, he was sitting here sulking and wishing things were different. Well, the only way things would be different is if he made them different. “You’re right, damn it.” Nodding to himself, he glanced at Gina. He hadn’t planned on caring for her. Hadn’t wanted to find love again. But now that he had, was he willing to let it disappear?
Mind racing, Nick started across the yard toward her. As if she sensed him coming, she turned, and their gazes locked as he neared her. Staring into her brown eyes, Nick saw her warmth, her spirit, the laughter he’d come to expect from her. She smiled and his heartbeat staggered. How could he have thought he could live without her?
The voices of the women around her faded into nothingness as Gina stared into Nick’s blue eyes. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? And more important, how could he set fire to her blood just by looking at her? A twist of anticipation coiled in the pit of her stomach and tightened as he came closer. All afternoon she’d pretended to be a bigger part of his life than she was. She’d listened to the stories from the other men’s wives, felt the strong sense of kinship they shared and wished she were a part of it. She’d watched Nick in his element, and even here, surrounded by professional warriors, he seemed to stand out from the rest.
And watching the obvious respect with which he was treated, she’d felt proud to be with him.
Gina held her breath as he stepped up to the small knot of women, his gaze still boring into hers. His dark-blue sports shirt seemed to make his eyes even bluer than usual. Then he spoke, and the rumble of his voice trembled along her spine, making her knees weak.
“Ladies,” he said, nodding, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to steal my girl away.”
His girl. Pleasure simmered inside her. She knew he was only saying that to keep up their pretense. But somehow she found herself wishing he meant it.
“I don’t know, Gunny,” one of the women said, “we kinda like her.”
He spared the woman a smile and said, “So do I.” Then he reached for her hand, and electricity seemed to shimmer up from her fingertips, along her arm to the center of her chest, where it lit up her heart like lightning in a summer storm. His hand closed around hers, and he squeezed tight as he led her away from the crowd to a relatively private corner of the yard.
“You did a good job today, Gina,” he said softly, pulling her closer.
“Thank you,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at him. Gina swallowed hard as she felt his right hand slide around her waist. A cool breeze ruffled her hair and teased at the collar of her blouse. But she wasn’t cold. How could she be, with the fire in Nick’s eyes to keep her warm?
“Party’s about over,” he said, his voice as deep and dark as a restless dream.
“Uh-huh,” she whispered, concentrating on the feel of his fingertips against her back. Even through the silky fabric of her blouse, she felt the warmth of him seeping down deep inside her. Her stomach flip-flopped. Her breath hitched in her lungs.
He lifted his head briefly to look about the yard, then shifted his gaze back to her. She lifted one hand to touch his cheek, and she watched the muscle in his jaw twitch as he gritted his teeth. Knowing she had such an effect on him only heightened the tensions running through her.
“I want to see you,” he said quietly, hungrily, “away from this crowd. Alone.”
She knew exactly what he meant, and instantly her own body went on full alert. It was as if she’d been keeping these feelings at bay all week and now suddenly they’d broken free. Need rippled through her, and Gina didn’t want to question it. “Me, too.”
“Come on, then,” he said suddenly, grabbing her hand and holding on tightly. He led her through the crowd, and Gina saw all of the faces she passed as little more than a blur. Body humming, she hurried alongside him and muttered polite phrases as they said goodbye to the Colonel and his wife.
Then Nick and Gina headed toward the front of the house. “Where’d you park your car?” he asked tightly.
“There,” she said, pointing. He nodded and started for it. “What about yours?” she asked.
“I walked. Only live a few blocks from here.”
“That’s close,” she said.
“Real close,” he agreed, giving her a look that nearly set fire to her soul.
“Oh, good,” she muttered, and only let go of his hand long enough to give him her keys, then get in on the passenger side. “You drive. It’ll be faster.”
“Yeah.” Jaw tight, he stared straight ahead, as if he didn’t dare look at her for fear of wrapping the car around a lamppost. But he stretched his right hand across the space separating them and ran his palm up and down her thigh.
“Oh, hurry, Nick,” Gina whispered, lifting her hips right off the seat to move into his touch. When his hand dipped down, between her thighs, she groaned tightly and managed to say, “Please tell me you have condoms.”
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, stroking the hot, aching center of her through the tight denim fabric of her jeans.
“Oh, good.”
In seconds they were pulling up in front of a long row of apartments. Gina didn’t even bother to look around. She wouldn’t have seen anything, anyway, through the hazy blur masking her vision. He jumped out of the car, came around and opened her door for her, then pulled her out of her seat with one strong tug. Keeping a tight grip on her hand, he led her to one of the doors on the ground floor and fumbled in his pants pocket for the key.
When he had the door opened, he guided her inside, then closed and locked the door behind them. Gina turned and flew into his arms. This, she told herself as his hands swept up and down her back, cupping her behind, stroking her spine, this is what she wanted. Needed. This man. This wild, amazing loving.
He kissed her, opening her mouth with his tongue, demanding her response, and when she gave it, he groaned and tightened his hold on her. Again and again, their tongues twisted together as he walked her through the apartment. Breath mingling, souls touching, his hands explored her even as his mouth devoured her.
When the backs of her knees came up against the edge of his bed, they stopped, and frenzied hands went to work on buttons and zippers. In seconds they were naked, wrapped together atop the quilt.
His hands were everywhere. Gina’s mind raced to kee
p up with the sensations pouring through her, and still she was breathless. Her palms slid up and down his back, and she marveled at the solid strength of him. The feel of his weight pressing into her, the scent of him filling her, the taste of him on her mouth. All these things she would remember. She imprinted them all on her memory, wanting to be able to recall every moment spent with him. Every touch. Every kiss.
He touched her center, and she was ready for him. Damp heat welcomed him, and she gasped as she lifted her hips into his touch. Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Oh, Nick, please…”
“Just a minute, baby,” he whispered, and leaned away from her. She heard a drawer slide open and then a tearing sound and she knew he’d sheathed himself.
Opening her eyes again, she watched as he came back to her, moving to kneel between her legs, sliding his palms up the insides of her thighs until she trembled from the want building within her.
“Be inside me, Nick,” she whispered, lifting both arms toward him.
“That’s right where I want to be, Gina,” he said softly, and covered her body with his own.
He took her mouth with his in a glorious invasion. She met him kiss for kiss, sigh for sigh and held him tightly as he set a hard, fast rhythm that sweetly tortured her. As tension within her mounted, she smoothed her hands up and down his back, her short, trim nails tearing at his skin as she struggled to find something to hold on to in a suddenly tilting world.
Bodies as one, hearts pounding, they hurtled toward the peace they’d only found together. And when Gina arched into him and cried out his name, Nick knew he could never give her up.
A few minutes later Nick snatched Gina’s blouse off the floor and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She slipped it on and began to button it.
“Gina,” he said softly, as he tugged on his jeans, “I’ve been thinking.”
She threw him a quick look, then grabbed up her khaki slacks. “About…”
“Us,” he said simply. “This.” He waved one hand at the rumpled bed cover. “What we have together.”
The Last Santini Virgin Page 11