One True Love

by Barbara Freethy

  "What now?" Lisa asked.

  Nick rolled down the windows and turned on the radio. "Music, baby."

  He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back as the sounds of Matchbox Twenty came blaring through the car. "I haven't listened to them in ages."

  "They used to be your favorite group."

  "I remember," she said with a sigh as he drove down the street. The music pulsed through her body, and with the warm wind in her hair and Nick by her side, she felt nineteen again -- and in love. Her lips curved into another smile. She couldn't help it. She had plenty of reasons to dislike Nick, but at the moment she had a hard time remembering what they were. The good memories were coming back, and she wasn't sure she could stop them even if she tried -- that is, if she wanted to try.

  For the moment, it was easier to simply sit back in her seat and enjoy the day.

  * * *

  Nick smiled to himself as the song ended and another one began. Lisa looked suddenly younger, more carefree, the way she'd been when they had first begun to date.

  Although Lisa had grown up under his feet, she'd always been Maggie's friend. Besides that, she was two years younger and had been too young to fool with, until he ran into her after her high school graduation. By then he was living on his own in an apartment on the beach with two other guys. He had just begun his junior year at San Diego State and hadn't seen Lisa in almost two years.

  When he saw her at a party, he couldn't believe she was all grown up. He'd been drawn to her beauty, of course, but also her quiet. She didn't talk a lot. In fact, she'd often seemed vulnerable to him, with fragile feelings that could easily be hurt. Once he got to know her, he realized she had a quick wit, an easy laugh, a loving smile, a killer competitive instinct, and a good heart.

  And she'd listened to him, to all his crazy dreams about playing guitar in a rock and roll band even though they both knew he didn't have nearly enough talent. In those days, their dreams had touched the sky.

  Although Lisa had been reluctant to share her own goals at first, she'd finally come to trust him enough to tell him how much she wanted to write a novel. She'd even shown him some of the journals she'd kept throughout her childhood, pages of daydreams that had kept her company in a family where she seemed the odd one out.

  Not that he'd ever seen her that way. It had always been obvious to him that Silvia adored her daughter. They were just different. Silvia was hot, fast, impetuous. Lisa was cool, calm and thoughtful. And her great-aunt, Carmela, had only widened the divide between mother and daughter with her weekly spiritual gatherings, as she liked to call them.

  Lisa hadn't wanted to introduce him to her family at first. For awhile, he thought she was ashamed of him. Then he realized she was worried about his reaction to them. Finally, he'd managed to convince her that he loved her unconditionally. And finally, she'd trusted him enough to believe that.

  It was funny. Lisa had always been an optimist where his dreams were concerned, but she'd always been a pessimist about herself. Not that she didn't try to win. Despite her inherent insecurity, she loved to compete and adored winning, especially card games, where her incredible memory made her remember every hand. They'd had a great time in Vegas one year.

  In fact, they'd always had a good time together, whether they were going to the movies or a comedy club or the beach. They'd been surprisingly compatible, or maybe they'd just been willing to share everything. He'd suffered through the tear-jerking movies she'd loved, and she'd gamely stayed out until three in the morning so he could hear a new band play. The most important thing was that they were together. Nothing else had mattered.

  Nick snuck a glance in Lisa's direction. She seemed content to look out the window while the kids chattered in the backseat. He'd missed her, he suddenly realized. When she'd left, he hadn't just lost a child and a wife, he'd lost his best friend. He wondered if she'd missed him. Probably not, he decided. He knew one thing about her that hadn't changed. When someone hurt her, she never forgave them.

  Lisa turned and looked at him. She raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Something wrong?"

  It was such a simple question to cover just how much was wrong between them. How had they ever gotten to this place, two strangers who had once been everything to each other?

  He shook his head. "Everything's fine. Maggie tells me you're in advertising now. Do you like it?"

  "Yes. Although I like the writing better than everything else. Not that I don't enjoy meeting clients and all that, but I still get a thrill out of coming up with just the right slogan." She smiled somewhat self-consciously. "I know it's not brain surgery, but it suits me."

  "You always did want to write. I'm glad you found a job where you could do just that."

  "Me, too." She was quiet for a moment, then smiled at him. "Thanks, Nick."

  "For what?"

  "Understanding." She turned away as if she were sorry she'd said something so personal.

  Nick didn't press her for more. He wasn't sure he'd get it, nor was he sure he wanted it. He and Lisa had closed the door on their relationship a long time ago, and whether or not he'd been in favor of ending it at that time was water under the bridge. It had ended. That was the bottom line. Whoever said you can't go back was probably right.

  * * *

  "I'm old." Nick said a half hour later as he tossed down the football and collapsed on the sand next to Lisa, his breath coming fast, sweat beading along his forehead. "I've just been trounced by an eight-year-old."

  Lisa shaded her eyes against the sun as she checked on the kids. Roxy had found a friend, and they were lounging about twenty feet away, pretending to be completely alone on the beach, so that the group of boys a few feet away might come over and start flirting. Dylan and Mary Bea were throwing a stick into the water, watching in delight as Sally jumped into the waves to retrieve it.

  It was early spring, and although the day was warm, the ocean water was cold. Dylan and Mary Bea seemed content to let Sally do the wading, which was fine with Lisa, who had no desire to stick even her big toe into the ocean. She'd always loved to sunbathe. Swimming through waves that pounded her into the sand had never been her idea of a good time.

  Lisa looked at Nick. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving. His face was red, and he appeared hot. A devilish thought came into her mind, and, acting on impulse -- something she hadn't done in years -- she scooped a couple of small melting ice cubes out of the ice chest and let the cold water drip onto Nick's face.

  His eyes flew open as he sat up. "What the hell--"

  "Just wanted to make sure you weren't asleep," she said with a laugh.

  She knew she'd made a huge mistake when Nick reached into the ice chest and came up with a large chunk of ice. She scooted back on the blanket, but she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

  Nick grabbed her arm, pulled open the neck of her shirt and dumped the ice down her chest. She gasped and jumped to her feet, shaking the ice cubes out from her shirt. "That wasn't fair."

  He laughed. "You started it."

  She glared at him. "Fine. You're right. You win."

  He gave her a doubtful look. "You're going to let me win that easily?"

  "I'm not a child. I can take losing."

  "Since when?"

  "Since -- oh, shoot. Do you think Mary Bea is too close to the water?"

  As Nick turned to look at the children, Lisa grabbed another handful of ice, pulled open the back of Nick's shorts and dumped the ice.

  "Yow!" Nick started dancing, hopping up and down on one foot as he tried to shake the ice out of his shorts. "That does it. Now you've made me mad."

  At the look of murder in Nick's eyes, Lisa took off down the beach. Nick ran after her. She sprinted past Roxy and her girlfriends and headed toward Mary Bea and Dylan.

  "Are you playing tag?" Dylan asked.

  "Yes," Nick shouted. "Anyone who can push Aunt Lisa into the water gets ten bucks."

  "Cool!" Dylan tossed down the stick in his hand
as he ran after Lisa.

  Lisa ran faster as they gained on her, but it wasn't long before Nick, Dylan and Mary Bea tackled her.

  She hit the ground hard, getting a fistful of sand, which she promptly tossed into Nick's face while Dylan and Mary Bea laughed, and Sally barked with delight.

  Nick pushed her back on the sand and pinned her hands over her head. She would have yelled at him, but she was completely out of breath.

  "Say it," he ordered.

  "Uncle," she gasped.

  "Uncle who?" Mary Bea asked curiously.

  "It means I give up," Lisa said. "Let me go."

  Nick laughed. "I don't think so. You haven't said the magic words."

  "Which are what?"

  "You win, Nick, You're the best."

  "You win, Nick. You're the best," she said with a mocking smile.

  "I'm always wrong and you're always right," he added.

  "You got that right," she said.

  He frowned. "That's not what I meant. You say I'm always wrong, and you're always right."

  "Not in this lifetime."

  "Okay." He looked over at Dylan and Mary Bea. "Guess we'll have to tickle her."

  "Don't you dare," she warned, but it was too late. Mary Bea and Dylan dived into her, their little hands tickling every sensitive spot until she begged for mercy.

  That's when Nick picked her up and headed toward the water. She flung her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life. "Nick, please. It's cold."

  He waded in deeper. "What will you give me if I don't drop you?"

  "What do you want?" she cried as the ocean spray hit her hot face with shocking coldness.

  "I don't know. What are you offering?"

  She stared into his teasing eyes. "I'll give you a hug."

  "How about a kiss?"

  "On the cheek."

  "Open mouth, all tongue."

  "No way. Think of the children. Think of our -- our divorce. Think of Raymond."

  "Are you thinking of Raymond, Lisa?"

  She should be thinking of Raymond, but Nick's face was too close, his eyes too bright, his lips so damn sexy,

  "Raymond is a great guy," she said desperately.

  "So am I, and I'm the one who's holding you. So what's it going to be?''

  "Nick, think of the children. We'll only confuse them more."

  Nick glanced over his shoulder at Mary Bea and Dylan, who had lost interest in them and were tossing a stick to Sally. "The children are fine. They're not paying any attention to us." He began to lower her toward the water.

  "Wait. Wait. All right. One kiss on the mouth -- no tongues."

  Nick laughed. "You seem to be under the misguided impression that you have some say in this."

  "You don't really want to kiss me that way."

  "Oh, but I do." he said with a gleam in his eyes. "I really do." And he did. He covered her mouth with his, pushing past her lips with a confidence and sureness that felt absolutely right, absolutely perfect. His tongue danced against hers, filling her mouth, her soul, the empty places in her heart.

  She was mindless to her surroundings. The noise of the beach, the children, everything else faded away -- until she hit the water with a resounding splash.

  The cold stopped her heart. "Damn you," she spluttered, coming up for air.

  Nick held out his hands in apology. "Sorry, I forgot where we were."

  "I'll just bet you did," she said, wading out of the water.

  "It's true." The smile faded from his face. "You sure can kiss. I'd almost forgotten." He shook his head. "That was a mistake, I won't let it happen again."

  Anger flared at his arrogant statement. "Maybe you won't have a choice next time. Maybe I'll kiss you." Good heavens, what was she saying? She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop any other stupid statements from erupting past her lips.

  Nick looked amused again. "That will be the day. You don't want me, remember? Or have things changed?" Without waiting for an answer, he smiled at her. "I'm going to dry off. See ya."

  "Wait a second," she called, but he'd already turned his back on her. She kicked some water at him, but it fell woefully short, and she realized that for the second time in two days he'd walked away from her. "Fine, dry off," she yelled. "See if I care."

  He stopped about ten feet from her and laughed. "Oh, you care all right. Finally, you care about something. I'd rather see you mad and spitting at me than the way you were when you left all those years ago, so cold and distant like a robot. Now, you're all..." he paused, raking her body with his glance. "Now, you're all woman again. God help me." He turned and strode up the beach.

  "God help both of us," she muttered as she slowly followed him back to the blanket.

  * * *

  "Your husband?" Jeremy repeated, as he took Maggie by the shoulders. "What are you talking about?"

  "Never mind." Maggie tried to slip away from him, but his hands tightened around her arms.

  "Don't you think it's time you told me the truth? You think your husband is having an affair with Serena, don't you?"

  "Sort of." She took a breath. "My husband died in a fire almost a year ago."

  "He died? I don't understand. You just said--"

  "About two weeks ago, I received a letter from Serena. It made me suspicious of everything that had happened. I thought if I could just ask her how she knew him, I could let it all go."

  Jeremy pulled her over to the sofa so they could both sit down. "Start at the beginning. If your husband is dead, why did you panic when I told you Serena was meeting a long lost friend in San Francisco?"

  Maggie felt foolish for even considering a confession. She would sound like an idiot. "I -- forget it. I don't know why I reacted that way."

  "Yes, you do. Tell me."

  "I can't," she whispered.

  His expression turned serious. "You can trust me. Crystal. Don't you know that yet?"

  Obviously she didn't, since she hadn't yet told him her name was Maggie. Still, it would be nice to tell someone, especially someone she would never see again. So what if he thought she was crazy? What did it matter?

  It mattered because she liked him, because he seemed interested in her. She hated to see all that disappear, and she knew it would when she told him what she really thought.

  "Okay," Jeremy said. "Let me guess."

  "You couldn't."

  "I've got a good imagination. Your husband died, and although you used to think he was faithful, now you think he was having an affair with Serena. And there's something else. Something that happened that's made you doubt other things about him, about your life together." He paused. "Lastly, you suspect that he might still be alive."

  "You are good," she said with amazement.

  "All that plotting experience," he said, settling back on the sofa.

  Maggie turned, suddenly eager to discuss her theory with him. Maybe he could make sense of it. "Okay, what would you think if a man increased the terms of his life insurance policy two months before his death, made a large cash withdrawal only twenty-four hours before his death and then received a letter from a strange woman asking him if he was still planning to meet her as he'd promised?"

  Jeremy stared at her for a long moment, his eyes speculative, considering. "I'd think something was going on."

  "Then you don't think I'm crazy?"

  "No."

  Maggie couldn't help the sigh of relief. "There's something else, Jeremy. They never found Keith's body. There was an explosion, a chemical fire deep within a lab. They found..." She stumbled over the gruesome details, but knew she had to get them out. "They found bits of bones and some teeth, fragments of Keith's shirt. But not a body. The firemen said the force of the explosion, the chemical makeup of the fire was so strong that the body was basically incinerated." She shook her head. "I'm probably just grasping at straws."

  "Maybe you are," Jeremy took her hand in his. "Maybe you want him to be alive so much you're imagining everything else. Did you love him?"
>
  "Yes, very much. We were happy. At least I thought we were. After he died, I tried not to think about the money and everything, but then I got that letter from Serena, and I knew I had to find out the answer to at least one of my questions."

  "Makes sense to me. So, are you going to San Francisco?"

  "I shouldn't."

  "That's not what I asked."

  She smiled. "You already know the answer, don't you?"

  "Want some company?"

  She looked into his eyes and saw the same look of desire she'd seen the day before. "Why?"

  In reply, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. The warmth of his mouth, the persuasion of his lips, the seductive scent of his aftershave drew Maggie in like a moth to a flame. He was a stranger. His face was so different from Keith's, his skin rough and sexy, his lips demanding, his arms pressing her close to him. His body felt right -- yet wrong. His jeans pressed against her bare legs -- jeans, not a suit.

  The sensations hit her in waves as desire raced through her body. She liked the way Jeremy kissed her, the way his hands caressed her back, spreading across her waist until his fingertips glanced lightly against her breasts. She suddenly wanted him in her mouth, in her body, in a completely lustful, sexual way that shocked the hell out of her.

  "Oh, God," she murmured, breaking away from him. "What am I doing?" She jumped to her feet. "I have to go. I have to..." She didn't know what she had to do. She could barely remember her own name. Was it Crystal or was it Maggie? She put her hands to her face, feeling the heat in her cheeks. "This is getting complicated."

  Jeremy stood up, desire darkening his eyes. "It's simple really. I'm attracted to you. You're attracted to me."

  "But I'm married."

  "Are you?"

  "I might be," she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.

  "Whatever happened, whether he's dead or he left you, he's still gone. You're still alone."

  Maggie took in a deep breath as his sharp words hit home.

  "That was pretty blunt. You don't know anything about me, Jeremy."

  "Then tell me about you. Tell me on the way to San Francisco."

  "I can't go with you."

  "I won't hurt you. I won't even touch you again, not unless you ask me to."