One True Love

by Barbara Freethy

  "Go away," Lisa muttered. "Shoo now. Find some other yard." The bird stared at her as if she were crazy, which of course she was. "I'm getting married. I've found my mate. He's in L.A. Go visit him."

  "Who are you talking to?" Nick asked, stumbling into the kitchen dressed in nothing but a pair of low-riding blue jeans.

  Her breath caught at the sight of his tousled hair, sexy eyes, tanned, muscular chest, and the strong arms that had once held her so tight. Mornings had always been their best time together. They'd made love so many times in the early light of dawn, still dreamy with sleep, but awake with desire.

  Lisa forced herself to look away from Nick. Unfortunately, that only brought her gaze back to the robin, and they both disturbed her peace of mind.

  "He's back," Nick said, joining her at the window, his arm brushing hers in a touch so brief, so impersonal it should have meant nothing.

  Instead she felt a jolt of awareness, a shivering parade of goose bumps that fled down her arm. She stepped away quickly as if she'd touched a hot stove.

  Nick looked at her, not saying a word, but his eyes said it all. He knew. He'd always known. Damn him.

  She walked over to the coffeemaker and refilled her cup.

  "That looks good," Nick said.

  "Help yourself."

  "You never used to drink coffee," he commented as he poured himself a cup.

  "I never used to do a lot of things." She sat down at the kitchen table. "Maggie called last night. She said she might not be back until Monday, but she'd call us today."

  "What in the hell is she up to?"

  Lisa debated whether or not to tell him that Maggie had a man in her hotel room, then decided not to. Maggie was a grown woman. If she wanted to have a fling, who was Lisa to criticize? "I'm not sure," she prevaricated.

  "Not sure? Or won't say?"

  "A little of both."

  "Fine, have it your way." He took a sip of his coffee. "What are your plans for the day?"

  "I thought I might take the kids to the beach."

  "They love the beach."

  "Nick, you can go home now. The kids will be fine with me today. Unless you still don't trust me to take care of them." She could have kicked herself for revealing her insecurity, because it was clear from Nick's expression he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  "You're very good with the kids," he said quietly. "I always thought you were a good mother."

  "That's not what you said--" She stopped herself and took a deep breath. "Never mind."

  Nick sat down in the chair next to hers. He stared at the box of invitations, then pulled one out. "Raymond Curtis and Elisabeth Alvarez cordially invite you to attend their wedding." He looked at Lisa, who wished she'd never brought the invitations downstairs. "Elisabeth?"

  "It is my name."

  "Is that what he calls you?"

  "Yes."

  Nick put the invitation back in the box. "I guess you're really doing it."

  "I told you I was."

  "You did," he agreed. "It will be here before you know it. In fact, aren't you sending these out a little late?"

  "I've been busy."

  "There sure are a lot of them. Must be over a hundred in that box."

  "Raymond has a lot of friends."

  "What about your friends? Is Maggie invited?"

  "Of course."

  "What about me?"

  "You didn't make the cut."

  "I'm hurt." Nick slid his chair so close to hers that their legs touched. Lisa was about to back away when she saw the challenging glint in his eye. He was waiting for her to get up and run, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, as he set his cup down on the table and placed his hands on top of her thighs.

  "I'm conducting a test."

  "Of what?"

  "You and me. You said we're over. Until yesterday I would have agreed with you. Now, I'm not so sure."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have this incredible urge to kiss you."

  Lisa's heart sped up. "Don't do it." She put up a hand to stop him from coming closer, but touching his bare chest only made it worse. Instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled in the dark strands of hair on his chest.

  "God, I've missed you doing that," he said huskily, his gaze dropping down to her mouth. "And I've missed doing this."

  He covered her mouth with his, pushing, prodding, persuading until she could do nothing more but open her mouth and kiss him back the way he wanted her to. His tongue slid into her mouth and he tasted like coffee and Nick, the taste she'd loved and hungered for. She tilted her head, unconsciously deepening the kiss, as his arms slipped around her waist.

  "Wow! Are you guys French kissing?" Roxy asked, her voice tearing them apart.

  Lisa put a hand to her flushed cheeks. "Uh, uh..." She looked over at Nick for help, but his breathing was as ragged as her own.

  "I've never done it. Is it fun or is it sort of gross?" Roxy asked. "Because it sounds a little gross, you know."

  Nick smiled at Lisa, that slow, heart-stopping smile that made her mouth water. "It can be really great with the right person," he said. "And when you're a lot older."

  "Like how old?"

  "Thirty."

  Roxy made a face. "I don't think so, Uncle Nick." She skipped over to the breakfast table and sat down. "Hey, what are these?" She picked up an invitation, then looked at Lisa in confusion. "Is this you?"

  "Yes," Lisa said. "I'm getting married in a couple of weeks."

  Roxy looked from Lisa to Nick, then back at Lisa. "Then how come you're kissing Uncle Nick?"

  "That's a good question, Lisa," Nick said.

  It was a good question. She just wished she had an answer.

  * * *

  "You came." Jeremy smiled at Maggie with satisfaction when she arrived on his porch just before eleven o'clock on Sunday morning.

  Maggie smiled somewhat nervously. Jeremy looked as good as he had the night before. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeve rugby shirt. His hair was still wet from a recent shower, his face cleanly shaven.

  She felt a surge of pleasure at the enthusiasm in his greeting. She'd spent most of the night telling herself that he was just amusing himself with her, that she was different from the women he dated, thus interesting for awhile anyway. Not that he knew who she really was.

  They'd talked until two o'clock in the morning, arguing, debating, but never getting personal. At least she hadn't. He'd talked about his family in Nebraska, the life he'd left behind, his dreams of making it big in Hollywood, and she'd listened. It reminded her of all the times she'd listened to Keith talk about his ambitions, how she'd encouraged him and supported him in every way she could.

  But there was one difference. Keith had never expected her to be anything but a wife and a mother. They had met in high school, married when she was eighteen and he was twenty-two. They'd conceived a child on their honeymoon and spent the next thirteen years building a life together.

  Jeremy had asked her lots of questions about who she was, what she did for work, where she lived, what kinds of movies she liked, who she'd voted for in the presidential race. She'd dodged most of his questions or given out just enough vague details to be polite, a fact that had not been lost on Jeremy.

  "Crystal, hello," Jeremy said, waving a hand in front of her face. "Are you still with me?"

  She flushed with embarrassment, realizing she'd once again drifted into a daydream in the middle of a conversation. "Sorry."

  "Don't be. Especially if you were thinking about last night, because last night was incredible."

  She twisted the strap of her purse between nervous fingers. "You make it sound like we did something."

  Jeremy laughed. "We did do something. We talked, we ate, we drank. We laughed a lot. I haven't enjoyed myself that much in a long time."

  "I meant, well, you know what I meant."

  "I told you before that that wasn't what this was abo
ut."

  "I didn't believe you before, and I don't really believe you now," Maggie confessed. "Men always want sex."

  "That's true. But sometimes we want more."

  "More sex," she said with a laugh.

  He shook a finger at her. "Maybe you need to broaden your experience with men."

  "Maybe I do. Are you volunteering?"

  "Ready and willing." He took her hand and pulled her inside. "Come on in."

  She hesitated, looking through the trees that separated Serena's condo from Jeremy's. "Have you seen Serena this morning?"

  "No, I just got up. Do you want to go over there now, or come in and have coffee?''

  "I better try her now, before it gets late."

  "Do you want me to come with you?"

  She thought of all the questions she had to ask Serena. "No, thanks. I'll stop back when we're done."

  "Promise?" He put a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever she says, whatever you find out, don't let it drive you away, not without saying good-bye."

  "I'm not sure I can promise that," she said slowly.

  "This isn't about a friend, is it? It's about you."

  Maggie knew he could read the truth in her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. "I better go."

  "I hope she gives you the right answer."

  "Me, too."

  Maggie walked quickly down the path and around the corner. She wanted to ring Serena's doorbell before she changed her mind.

  She heard the bell ring through the house, but it seemed awfully quiet inside, so she pushed it again. At this point, she didn't much care if Serena was asleep. She just wanted to see her face-to-face and ask Serena why the heck she'd written a letter to her husband.

  After a moment, Maggie heard footsteps. Her heart quickened. Serena was home. She was finally going to meet her.

  "Did you forget your goddamn keys again--" A male voice grumbled as he flung open the door.

  Maggie took a step backward. She'd been expecting Serena, not a tall, well-built man wearing nothing but hot red bikini underwear and a gold chain.

  "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, making no move to cover his glorious, almost naked, body.

  "Uh... uh..." Maggie stumbled, trying to find a safe place to look. She settled on his angry, unshaven face. "Is Serena here?"

  "Who wants to know?"

  "A -- a friend."

  "You don't look like a friend." The man's eyes narrowed as he checked out her blue jeans, beige knit top and the oversize brown purse that had become her constant companion since she began having children who seemed to need an endless array of supplies to get through every excursion. "What have you got in that purse?"

  Her jaw dropped open at his question. "What difference does it make?"

  His face tightened. "Shit. You've got a camera in there, don't you? Alma sent you after me, didn't she? Well, it won't work." He grabbed the purse off her arm.

  "Hey, wait a second, that's mine." Before she could stop him, he'd opened her purse and dumped half her things out on the side table inside Serena's front door. "What are you doing?" Maggie demanded, stepping through the doorway.

  "No camera," he said grimly, staring down at the pile of things that made up her life -- crayons, peppermints, lipstick, scissors, a troll doll, three plastic black spiders, a comb and the letter from Serena to Keith.

  "Why would I have a camera?"

  "What about a tape recorder? Are you wired?"

  She saw his gaze move from her face to her chest and had the sudden feeling he was about to rip open her shirt. "Don't even think about it," she warned, grabbing her stuff and piling it back into her purse. "Are you crazy or something?"

  "You tell Alma that her little plan won't work. She's got nothing on me."

  "Who is Alma?"

  "Like you don't know," he scoffed. "I'll admit you're better disguised than the last dick she sent after me. But I can spot a setup a mile away."

  "A dick?" Maggie spluttered. "You think I'm a private eye?" Good heavens! Had the world gone mad? Jeremy thought she was Crystal, and this man thought she was a private eye spying on him for some woman named Alma.

  The man grabbed her arm and shoved her onto the porch.

  "Wait. Wait," she cried. "I came to see Serena."

  "Yeah, right."

  "Is she here?

  "I don't know anyone named Serena."

  "Then why are you in her condo?"

  "I got lost." He slammed the door in her face.

  Maggie silently fumed, debating whether or not to ring the bell again. It was probably pointless. She wouldn't be able to get that jerk to listen to reason even if he did open the door.

  Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm the flutters of panic and uncertainty. The obnoxious man had only reminded her that she was completely out of her depth here in L.A. and she would no doubt be better off going home. But she hated to leave now, when she was so close. Maggie turned and walked down the path. She had to admit that it was somewhat amusing to be mistaken for a private investigator. She almost felt like she was in a television movie. By the time she pushed open Jeremy's front door, she was feeling better and determined to come up with another plan.

  She knew Jeremy would help her. And he was a writer. Surely he could think of some way for her to meet Serena.

  Jeremy wasn't in his living room, but at her questioning call, he told her to come in, so she did. His condo was warm and inviting, the feel of the Pacific Southwest apparent in the Indian rugs on the floor and the series of spectacular photographs lining the hallway, boasting aerial photography of the Grand Canyon, the red cliffs of Sedona, and old town Albuquerque.

  There were books and magazines littering every available table. Jeremy had obviously turned his dining room into an office, with papers strewn endlessly about. It was a man's house, endearingly messy, she thought with a smile.

  "It's a mess, I know." Jeremy walked out of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. "I like to spread out when I'm working."

  "I can see that."

  He handed her a mug. "I thought you'd be back sooner since Serena isn't home."

  She sent him a confused look. "Why didn't you tell me she wasn't home before I went over there?"

  He tipped his head toward the phone. "Serena just called to ask me to pick up her newspaper for a couple of days. She was at the airport. I thought you'd ring the bell and come right back. What took you so long?''

  "A man answered her door. He seemed to think I was spying on him. He kept asking me if Alma sent me."

  Jeremy smiled. "Oh."

  "Do you know him?"

  "Can't say that I do."

  "He acted so oddly. I mean, why would he think I was spying on him? He must be paranoid."

  "Or married." Jeremy took another sip of his coffee.

  She stared at him in dismay. "You're right. He kept saying Alma wasn't going to get anything on him."

  "So, what now?"

  Maggie thought for a moment. "Go home, I guess."

  "Serena went to San Francisco," Jeremy said abruptly, a speculative gleam in his eye.

  Maggie felt her pulse quicken at the new lead. "San Francisco?"

  "It's only an hour by plane."

  "No, I couldn't." Maggie immediately shook her head. Or could she? Lisa had agreed to stay until Monday. She could be back by tomorrow morning.

  "I love watching you think," Jeremy said. "Everything goes through your eyes. You're worrying about something." His smile faded. "Someone's waiting for you, a man."

  "No, not a man."

  His expression lightened. "Good."

  "This is foolish. I shouldn't even be considering it."

  "Serena told me she was meeting someone in San Francisco, someone she hadn't seen in a long time. In fact, she said it had been so long she thought he was dead. It turned out he wasn't."

  Maggie's stomach lurched. Her heart raced. Her palms began to sweat, and the mug fell from her fingers and smashed against the floor, splash
ing hot coffee in every direction. She barely felt the stinging drops of burning liquid that sprang up to her bare arms.

  Serena thought he was dead, but it turned out he wasn't.

  Oh, God. What did that mean? Was it possible? No, of course not. Still...

  "Crystal." Jeremy grabbed her arm and gave her a shake until she finally focused on his face. "What's wrong? What did I say?"

  "You said he might not be dead."

  "Who?" Jeremy asked in bewilderment.

  "My -- my husband."

  Chapter Ten

  Lisa felt like she was part of a family again as she and Nick loaded the kids into his car, along with a stack of towels, some beach chairs, a Frisbee, a football and a picnic basket loaded with food. The kids squabbled as they squeezed into the backseat, arguing over who would sit in the middle. The tension broke when the dog leapt into the car and settled down in the center of the bench seat, barking with excitement.

  "You're not going, Sally," Nick said. "Go on, get outta here." He waved his hand at the dog.

  "Sally loves the beach," Dylan protested, throwing his arms around Sally's neck. "And she needs to run. Mom usually walks her every day, and since Mom is gone..."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nick grumbled. "Fine. She can come. The rest of you buckle up."

  Lisa smiled as she slid into the passenger seat. Nick was a complete pushover where the kids were concerned. He tried to be stern but failed every time, and they knew exactly which buttons to push.

  "Did you remember the sunscreen?" Lisa asked as Nick turned the key in the ignition.

  He sent her a disgusted look. "Sunscreen? You mean we don't have one bottle of sunscreen in the eighty-six bags you threw into the back?"

  "It was just a question."

  "I put some in, Aunt Lisa," Roxy piped up. "I don't want to get more freckles."

  "Anything else?" Nick asked.

  "You know you wanted to come," Lisa pointed out.

  "Because your car isn't working, and I'd hate for the kids to be stuck in the house all day."

  "Then let's go."

  "We're going." He backed out of the driveway, then stopped. "Oops, I almost forgot."