The Last Santini Virgin

by Maureen Child

  “Nick…”

  “I think we should get married.”

  “What?” She stopped, her hands still gripping the snap at the waistband of her slacks.

  He shoved one hand across the top of his head and paced barefoot around the room. Nice job, Paretti, he told himself. Real smooth. Hell, he hadn’t expected that to come flying out of his mouth any more than she had.

  Shaking her head, she backed away from him. “Oh, why’d you have to say that?” she asked, and he heard the slight tremor in her voice.

  He laughed shortly. “Surprised the hell out of me, too.”

  “Don’t do this to me, Nick,” she said softly.

  “I’m not trying to do anything to you.”

  “I can’t marry you,” she reminded him, and tossed her hair back out of her eyes. “I made a promise.”

  “A promise no father would want to hold his daughter to,” he said, knowing it was the truth.

  “I gave my word. Besides, you’re probably proposing for no reason.” A glimmer of tears shone in her eyes before she blinked them back.

  He knew exactly what she meant, and it rocked him to his heels. “You think I’m proposing because you might be pregnant?”

  “Why else?” she snapped, and a single tear rolled unheeded down her cheek. “You’ve already said you never wanted to get married again.”

  “I changed my mind,” he shouted.

  “Well I didn’t,” she shouted right back.

  “Look, Gina,” he said, trying to get things straight in his mind, “I admit, I never wanted to get married again. But we have…something together. Something I never expected to find.”

  “People don’t get married because they had sex,” she told him, swiping at that tear with the back of her hand. “At least not in this century.”

  “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head and biting down hard on her bottom lip. “I won’t let it be.”

  “You want to take care of your mother,” he said, moving toward her. “I can understand that. I can help.”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t need your help. Where are my shoes?”

  “I didn’t say you needed it,” he countered, while she searched the floor. “I’m just saying—”

  “I know what you’re saying,” she interrupted, and stepped into one of her black loafers, “but I don’t need your family money to take care of my mother.”

  “Damn it, Gina,” he said, frustration coloring his tone, “I’m not talking about my family money. I’m talking about me.”

  Her gaze slid from his. “Where’s my other shoe?”

  “The hell with your shoe,” he snapped. “What about us?”

  “There is no us,” she said, and her breath hitched on a choked-off sob. “Oh, the heck with this, I don’t need the other shoe.”

  Then she started for the front door, one shoe on, one shoe off, her footsteps making an odd sound on the floor as she went.

  Everything in him went cold and still. If he didn’t think of a way around this, he thought, she would keep walking, right out of his life.

  “Gina,” he said as he caught up with her and grabbed hold of her arm, turning her around to face him, “if you’re pregnant, you will marry me.”

  Gina looked up into his eyes, lifted one hand to his cheek and said, “Goodbye, Nick.”

  And damned if it didn’t sound permanent.

  Twelve

  “Where’s your other shoe?”

  Gina stopped dead and glanced at her mother, seated on the back porch steps. She’d hoped to sneak past the house and into her apartment where she could lick her wounds in private. Of course, the way her day had gone, she should have known better.

  “I, uh…lost it.”

  In the glow of the porch light, she saw one of her mother’s eyebrows lift. “Must have been a good party.”

  She nodded and started walking again.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” her mother asked as Gina came even with her.

  “He’s not my—” She stopped herself and shook her head.

  “Ah,” Marianne said sagely, “you had a fight.”

  Gina looked at her mother and was nearly swamped by the urge to crawl into her lap. Strange how quickly a grown woman can become a child again around her parent, she thought.

  “What did he do wrong?” her mother asked gently.

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  “He moves fast.” Mama grinned. “And this was worth fighting about?”

  “I said no.” Gina closed her eyes tightly against the memory of his face as she’d left him. But even if she’d been free to marry him, she wouldn’t have. He’d never said anything about love. How could she say yes to a hurried proposal for the sake of a baby? What kind of marriage would they have if forced together for convention’s sake? What kind of life would it be for the child?

  “Sit down.” Mama said and grabbed one of her hands to tug her over to the porch.

  From within the house came the ordinary sounds of a typical evening—Angela and her son arguing over doing the dishes, with the rumbled noise of the television in the background. And at the far end of the street, Mrs. Harkin’s poodle yapped at nothing as the streetlights blinked on. Everything was so ordinary and yet…so different. Gina took a seat beside her mother on the cold, cement step and leaned against her.

  “Tell me why you said no.”

  “I had to.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes,” Gina whispered, and realized it was the first time she’d acknowledged her love for Nick, even to herself. He was everything she could have asked for—strong, kind, stubborn, passionate…. Oh, yes, she loved him. But that changed nothing. “And I can’t marry him.”

  “You’re not making sense.”

  Gina sat up straight and turned her head to look at her mother. How to explain? “I—”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

  Gina sighed. “I never meant for you to know.”

  “Well now I have to.” She gave her daughter a look Gina hadn’t seen since childhood. “Talk.”

  Gina surrendered—maybe because she needed to—and in just a few short minutes, she’d told Mama everything. Silence stretched out between them for several long minutes, and then her mother grumbled something and jumped to her feet.

  “Take care of me?” she asked, tilting her head back to look up at the darkening night sky with an accusatory scowl. “You asked our daughter to take care of me?”

  “Mama…”

  Muttering in Italian, Marianne Santini spun around to face her daughter. “Gina, honey, I loved your father very much, but sometimes…”

  Confused, she asked, “What?”

  “Think about it, honey. Who was it who took care of the bills, did the bookkeeping, watched you girls, managed the house and the shop?”

  She didn’t have to think about it. “You did.”

  “Uh-huh,” her mother said, planting both hands on her hips. “I didn’t need your papa to take care of me,” she said. “I needed him to love me.”

  “He did.”

  “Yes, he did.” She reached out to cup Gina’s cheek. “But my point here is, I can take care of myself.”

  “But Papa…”

  “Papa was wrong,” her mother said, interrupting her firmly and shooting another scorching glare skyward before looking at her daughter again. “I love you, honey,” she said, “but I don’t need a nurse. What I need is for you to be happy.”

  Nick had been right. Marianne Santini was an amazing woman. Gina stood up and walked right into the circle of her mother’s arms. Where she’d always felt safe. Loved. After giving Gina a fierce hug, her mother took her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “You be happy, Gina. Married or single, whatever it is you want. I’ll support you. Always.”

  “I know that, Mama.”

  “Good. Now, you forget about that promise, because whe
n I talk to your papa tonight, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

  Gina grinned through the tears blurring her vision. She didn’t envy her father. Even being in Heaven didn’t get him out of reach of Mama’s temper.

  “Now!” the other woman said briskly, “you go upstairs and wash your face. Maybe call that nice boy. Straighten this out. Me, I have to get ready for my date.”

  Gina’s jaw dropped as she watched her mother take the back steps. “You have a date?”

  “Hmph! What? I’m so terrible a man wouldn’t want to date me?” Her mother smiled. “Like I said, I can take care of myself. Now it’s time for you to do the same.”

  Alone in the darkness, Gina realized that her mother, far from needing a protector, had a much firmer grip on her life than she did. But she had always known that, deep down. Maybe she’d been hiding behind that promise to Papa. And, free of her promise, Gina was still unable to have the man she wanted, because he was only interested in protecting a child that might not even exist.

  One week later Nick stood just inside the hall where the dance contest was being held. Keeping one eye on the front door and a wary eye on the panel of judges opposite him, he tried to tell himself it would work out. It had to work out.

  He’d tried all week to talk to Gina, but she’d avoided him with a stealthy dexterity that should have earned her a position in the Recon Battalion. His last chance at talking to her, reasoning with her, was this stupid contest. And for that chance he was even willing to humiliate himself in public.

  Man, he’d be a lot more confident right now if he was wearing fatigues and carrying an M-16.

  Then the front door swung open, and suddenly Gina was there. Pausing in a pool of lamplight, she glanced around the crowded room until she saw him. Her hair curled in gentle waves and was pulled back from her face by a rhinestone clip that glittered in the overhead light. She wore a soft-green dress with a neckline low enough to tantalize him and a full skirt that swirled around her knees as she came toward him. She looked beautiful, he thought, despite the gleam of sadness in her eyes that hit him low and hard.

  One look at him and Gina knew she probably shouldn’t have come. Lord knew she’d long since stopped caring about this darn contest. But at the same time, this was her one last chance to see him—to talk to him. And she had to tell him; he had the right to know. Then he could go on with his life, and she could start learning to get over him.

  But it wouldn’t be easy. Her heart fluttered unsteadily as her gaze swept over the handsome figure he made in his dark-brown sports jacket and khaki slacks. But it was those blue eyes of his that did her in. As they had from the first moment she’d seen him.

  A swell of music rose up in the air, and contestants and audience members alike drifted toward the huge dance floor, leaving the two of them alone in the entryway.

  “You’re late,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know,” she answered. Actually, she’d been on time, she’d just spent a few extra minutes in the parking lot, steeling herself to go inside.

  “Gina—”

  “Before you say anything,” she said quickly, wanting to stop him before he did something stupid like propose again, “there’s something you have to know.”

  “All right.”

  It shouldn’t be this hard, she thought, staring into his eyes. She should be happy. She should be relieved. Instead, she felt like crying.

  “There’s no baby.” Gina said the words in a rush, hoping to get them out before her voice broke. God’s little “all clear” signal had arrived that morning, and she’d been sorry about it ever since. Now not only wouldn’t she have Nick, she wouldn’t have his child, either. Logically she knew it was better this way. Unfortunately, logic didn’t have much to do with her feelings.

  A long, silent moment drifted by as he only looked at her blankly. Then he asked, “Are you sure?”

  Gina choked out a humorless laugh. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, running one hand across the top of his head. “Of course you are. It’s just…”

  She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and maybe that was just as well. She didn’t want to see his relief. His delight in the narrow escape he’d just had. And she didn’t want to stand in this cold, empty vestibule talking about how lucky they were, either.

  Lifting her chin, she started past him, toward the dance floor. She would do her part in this contest and then she’d go home. He would never see her disappointment. Never see that she loved him. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had left.

  He reached out and grabbed her forearm. “Gina, wait.”

  She steeled herself and forced a smile that went nowhere near her eyes before saying, “It’s over, General. Your honor’s safe and your proposal forgotten. Don’t worry.”

  She pulled away and kept walking, back straight, chin lifted. Nick watched her go and for a moment or two was unable to follow her. Once again he felt as though someone had slugged him in the stomach—surprised and a little sick. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, and a deep, throbbing pain had settled in his chest.

  As she moved through the crowd, he tried to tell himself he should be counting his blessings. There was no baby. Never had been. Any other man in his position would probably be doing handsprings.

  Instead Nick felt as though someone close to him had just died. Stupid, really, he told himself, to be mourning a child that had never existed. And yet, in his mind that baby had been real. A part of Gina and him. A lasting memory of that incredible night.

  He’d seen a like pain in her eyes, too, and he knew Gina was feeling the same thing.

  The crowd swallowed her. She was lost from sight, and in that moment he knew that if he didn’t find her…make her listen…she’d be lost to him forever.

  Like the first Marine charging an enemy beachhead, Nick stormed across the floor and pushed his way through the shifting mob of people. As if they sensed he was a man on a mission, those in front of him cleared a path. Those behind muttered complaints. He hardly noticed. Every ounce of his concentration was focused on the search for wavy brown hair and a soft-green dress.

  Then he spotted her at the edge of the dance floor, watching the first contestants as they waltzed their way around the perimeter. Coming up behind her, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  The music was louder here, and it still couldn’t compete with the thudding beat of his own heart.

  “We’re next,” she said calmly, ignoring his firm grip and keeping her gaze carefully averted.

  “We’re not next for anything until you listen to me.”

  “There’s nothing more to be said,” she whispered.

  “Wrong, princess,” he murmured, and pulled her up close, bending down until they were eye-to-eye and she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “I don’t want you to forget my proposal,” he said.

  “The reason for it is gone.” The break in her voice echoed the pain in his heart.

  “The baby wasn’t the reason for it,” he muttered thickly, ignoring the interested bystanders. “It was just the excuse I gave myself.”

  “Whatever,” she said, trying to pull free and then surrendering to his strength. Glaring at him, she said, “Will you please let me go?”

  He shook his head and scanned her features intently. “I can’t, Gina. I never want to let you go. At least, not until I get you to forget about that promise you made and agree to marry me.”

  She glared briefly at an interested man standing close to them, then looked back at Nick. “The promise isn’t part of this anymore.”

  “It’s not?” he asked, and told himself to get the whole story behind that piece of news later.

  “No. But that doesn’t change anything.”

  A smattering of applause rose up as the first couple finished their routine. While the judges deliberated, Nick kept talking.

  “It changes everything.” His voice came low, harsh and desperate. He was fighting for his lif
e, here.

  “Nick, you never wanted to get married again, remember? You told me that yourself.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Why?” she snapped.

  “Because I fell in love with you!” he said, his voice loud enough suddenly that several of the nearby women sighed in response.

  But the one woman he wanted to respond said nothing. She just stared at him with the brown eyes that would haunt him for the rest of his life. She had to understand. She had to know that everything had changed for him the moment she’d first stepped into his arms at that stupid class.

  “Next…” a disembodied voice called over the loudspeaker. “Gina Santini and Nick Paretti, representing the Stanton School of Dance.”

  “We have to go,” Gina said shakily.

  “Not yet,” he said, gentling his grip on her shoulders, but refusing to release her. “I have to say this.”

  “Stop. Please.”

  “Never. I love you, Gina. I’m not afraid to admit that anymore. I love you. I want babies with you.”

  She blinked, and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

  Throat tight, Nick kept talking, sensing he was finally near his goal. “I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life and look into your eyes. I want to argue with you, laugh with you—” he chuckled shortly “—dance with you. I want it all, Gina, but I can only have it if you say yes.”

  “Gina Santini? Nick Paretti?” the judges called again, more impatiently this time.

  She shook her head, but he could see her weakening. Like any good Marine, he pressed his advantage. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her hard and long, showering her with all the love and want and need rising inside him. And when he let her go, she swayed unsteadily against him.

  “Gina?” he asked, cupping her face with both hands.

  “Nick—”

  Stubborn woman. Still going to argue.

  “Do you love me, Gina?” he asked, hoping to God he was right about her feelings for him.

  “Of course I love you, but—”

  Grinning, Nick shook his head and said, “No buts, princess. Just an answer. Will you marry me?”

  A fresh sheen of tears welled up in her eyes, but she nodded, anyway, and said, “Yes, General. I’ll marry you.”