One True Love

by Barbara Freethy

Los Angeles was the last place she wanted to go.

  How could she marry Raymond, knowing she still had feelings for Nick? How could she act on those feelings when she knew she and Nick could have no future together? She wouldn't go down that road again. She couldn't. It was too frightening.

  But how could she marry a man without loving him the way she'd loved Nick? Was that fair to Raymond? Didn't he deserve more?

  She could be a good wife. But could she be a great wife? Could she give Raymond everything he needed and still protect herself from getting hurt?

  She looked out the window at the dark night, the lights of the passing cars. She'd been worrying about marrying Raymond for far longer than the past few days. That's why she'd resisted hiring the wedding consultant and had insisted on doing the invitations herself, because she had wanted to control what was happening -- maybe even stop it if she had to.

  The wedding invitations were still sitting in Maggie's house. How could she send them out with so much unsettled in her mind? She looked down at the ring on her finger and twisted it with her hand. It felt heavy, pretentious and wrong. Slipping it off, she stuck it in the pocket of her jeans, even though it seemed sacrilegious to stick a two-carat diamond in a denim pocket. But without the ring on her finger, she felt lighter, better, less anxious.

  Glancing at Nick, she caught him watching her. She waited for him to comment, but after a moment, he turned his attention back to the road. Ten minutes later, he turned off the main highway and drove down the street that lined one of the harbors at Mission Bay.

  She thought they were going to a restaurant. But when she stepped out of the car, Nick led her toward the boats.

  "Where are we going?" she asked, suddenly wary of the look in his eyes, the purpose in his step.

  Nick took her hand. "It's not far."

  She followed him down the pier, until they stopped in front of a sailboat. "Whose boat is this?"

  "It's mine." He pointed to the bow, where something was written.

  She took a step closer so she could read the words. "Blue Eyes,"' she said out loud. Her heart thudded against her chest. "You named your boat after Frank Sinatra?"

  Nick laughed. "No, I named it after you, Blue Eyes."

  "Oh, Nick. Why?"

  "Because I missed you." He closed the gap between them, drawing her into his arms, threading his hands through her hair so she had to tilt her head and look at him. "I missed the way you made me laugh, the way you made me want to play the most seductive music I could find because you always made love to me afterwards. I missed the way we could read each other's thoughts without even trying, finish each other's sentences, eat half our dinners, then swap plates." His voice turned husky. "I missed my best friend."

  Her eyes filled with tears. "I missed you, too -- the music, the laughs, all the secrets we told each other. I've never been as open with anyone as I was with you."

  He kissed her on the mouth with tenderness that immediately rose to passion. Her best friend became her lover with one long, tingling kiss.

  "Would you like to see the rest of the boat?" Nick asked. "I think you'll like it."

  "Yes." She answered one question aloud, the other with her eyes. "Just don't -- don't let me think too much," she whispered.

  "Honey, the last thing I want you to do is think."

  He helped her on board, but didn't bother to point out anything but the stairs that led to the galley, and her brief view of that was cut off by the sudden descent of Nick's head, blocking out everything in her vision but him, his green eyes, his curly hair, his strong, wonderful face.

  She cupped his face with her hands and smiled at him. He smiled back, but didn't move. Now that they were alone together, he seemed oddly hesitant. It was her turn to step forward. Nick had brought her this far. She had to take them the rest of the way. If she dared.

  The boat rocked lazily in the water, the slippery motion making her only that much more dizzy with desire and need. Nick turned her world upside down. He overwhelmed her senses. He made her feel things that scared the hell out of her, because they were so deep, so personal, so private.

  If she made love to him now, Nick would take everything she had to give. He wouldn't let her hide behind the walls she'd built, and she would risk losing everything she'd worked so hard to attain -- her independence, her resolve to move forward.

  "You're thinking," Nick muttered. "We can't have that."

  He kissed her on the cheek, trailing his lips across her face to her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth, until she shuddered. He pulled her shirt out of her jeans and slid his hands up the bare skin of her stomach, raising goose bumps in his wake.

  She tensed as his hands grazed her breasts, as his fingers teased the skin above her bra and all the while his mouth moved slowly down her neck until she closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her.

  The want was too powerful, the need too strong to be denied. His mouth left her skin and she felt a rush of unwelcome cold, the silence of a chilling question. She opened her eyes and saw Nick watching her, desire firing his eyes, but control steadying his hands as they slipped to her waist.

  She answered him the only way she could. She started with the top button on her blouse and slipped it through the hole, then moved down to the next one and the next. Nick followed each move with his eyes -- his hungry, starving eyes.

  She suddenly felt in control, powerful, and wanted. When she finished with the buttons, she slipped the blouse off her shoulders and stood before him in a lacy black bra. She moved to undo the front hook.

  Nick stopped her with his hand. "Let me." He undid the clasp and slowly opened the bra.

  "Oh, God," she whispered. "I feel like I'm about to fall off of a cliff."

  "Don't fall." He looked into her eyes. "Jump."

  She drew in a breath, then let her bra fall to the floor.

  Nick's hands covered her breasts, followed by his mouth, moving greedily from one breast to the other, arousing her senses, until she wanted to sink to the floor and pull him on top of her, inside of her.

  Suddenly impatient, she reached for him, for the edges of his T-shirt.

  He lifted his head long enough to pull the shirt off, then pressed his chest against hers as he kissed her with a powerful longing that was both familiar and new, raising the old feelings of desire along with new feelings of passion that had come of age.

  She mirrored every move he made, delighting in the feel of his rough chest against her soft breasts. When he drew circles around her nipples, she drew circles around his. When his hand dropped to the snap on her jeans, she did the same to his, until they were moving in a beautiful, perfect duet.

  Her jeans hit the floor just a second before his. Her panties fell on top of his boxers, and finally they were totally naked, skin to skin in every wicked curve and secret corner of their bodies.

  She was hot and ready. He was hard and ready.

  He slipped his hands between her thighs. She cupped his buttocks, then slid her hands around to the front, to stroke the long, silky length of him, until Nick impatiently pushed her down on the bed.

  "Too much," he muttered.

  "Not enough," she said. "More." And she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back for another kiss.

  Nick sank his tongue into her mouth, while his fingers slid down her body once again, delving into the curls at her thigh, touching and caressing until she moved her hips restlessly on the bed.

  Nick raised his head. "You want me."

  It wasn't a question, but she answered him anyway. "I want you."

  He parted her legs and entered her in one powerful thrust that took her breath away. It was the past and the present. It was nothing and everything blending together. They were young, they were old. Their bodies and their souls recognized each other and welcomed the reunion. And when Nick went over the edge, she went right along with him, falling, falling, falling.

  He caught her the way he always had. His arms tightened aro
und her, his mouth comforted her with a kiss, as her heart slowed down and her mind came back to earth.

  Nick rolled onto his back, taking her with him, until her head rested on his chest and her arm fell across his waist. His hand stroked her back. His breath blew through her hair, and she felt loved.

  The boat rocked gently on the water as silence covered the cabin like a warm blanket.

  She didn't know if Nick was as afraid of conversation as she was, but they both remained silent, and Nick held her as tightly as she held him. There was love in the small cabin. There was also fear. Because she didn't know what came next, and she had a feeling Nick didn't either.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "I don't know what to do," Maggie declared. She got up from her seat on the couch in the lobby of the Crestmoor Hotel. They'd spent half the day watching the elevator doors, hoping to catch Serena and Keith on their way out, but they hadn't caught even a glimpse of them. "We have just spent hours doing nothing. Do you realize that?"

  "Actually, I've been writing. You've been watching the elevator," Jeremy replied.

  "Yeah, and a lot of good it's done me. I don't think I'm cut out for stakeouts." Maggie frowned as she glanced at the notebook he'd been scribbling in off and on all day. "What is your book about anyway? A woman looking for her supposedly dead husband?"

  "Maybe."

  "You can't write about me."

  "It's fiction. Maggie. Relax, it's not about you. I was kidding. I love it when you get mad. Your eyes take on this fiery glow."

  Maggie sent him a disgusted look. "I'm hungry, I'm tired and I'm cranky. The only two people who haven't gotten off those elevators are Serena and Keith. They're probably in their room having an orgy of sex. I would give anything to find out their room number."

  "You already flirted with three bellboys, the concierge, and a desk clerk. Then you tried bribery, which also didn't work. I don't think you have anything left to give." Jeremy, scribbled another sentence in his notebook, then closed it.

  "Well, obviously seducing information out of men is not my forte. It's Serena's."

  He stood up and walked over to her, turning her around so he could massage her shoulders with his hands.

  The tension eased as he worked his fingers against her tight muscles. "Let's get something to eat, a real meal, not anything else out of the vending machine."

  "I'm sure Serena and Keith will walk into this lobby as soon as I leave."

  "That's entirely possible," he agreed.

  "Then I'm staying here, but you can go, Jeremy. In fact, if you want to go back to L.A., I will understand."

  "And not see how this ends? Are you kidding? I'm in it for the long haul." He pulled out his phone. "I better check my messages at home. I rarely give anyone this number."

  "Can I use your phone again when you're done?"

  She'd put off calling home all day, afraid Nick or Lisa would insist she come back. If they did, she'd probably go, because she was starting to doubt whether she'd ever be able to see Serena and Keith.

  "No problem," Jeremy said. "Although, I'm a little curious as to who you keep calling. Care to fill me in?"

  "Not right now. Why don't you make your call?"

  A moment later, he said, "Damn, I can't believe this. You have to hear this. It's Serena." He handed the phone to her. "Listen."

  Maggie took the phone somewhat reluctantly. She didn't like the look on his face, the grim tone in his voice. Her heart skipped a beat as a woman's voice came on the line.

  "Jeremy. I've had a change of plans. My friend, Wanda, is going to come over to pick up some of my things tomorrow morning, but I need you to let her in, since you have an extra key to my condo. It should be around nine. I hope you're back by then. You won't believe what's happened."

  "I'm with someone special. He finally left his wife for me. I know you always tell me that married men are a bad idea, but I just couldn't resist him, and now he's finally mine. But his wife is trying to get him back, and she keeps calling my room, and it's a mess. Anyway, we're leaving now to drive down the coast to Santa Barbara. We'll be there for probably the next three days. Anyway, thanks for your help. Bye."

  "She's gone?" Maggie said in a daze.

  "The time on the message is twelve-thirty."

  "But that's impossible. We would have seen them leave."

  "They must have gone directly down to the garage level and rented a car," Jeremy said. "That's the only thing I can think of. Or else they saw us sitting here and found another way out of the hotel."

  "It was all for nothing. All day, we waited, for nothing. I can't do this." Maggie felt light-headed and swayed on her feet, trying to focus on Jeremy's face, on his shirt, on the floor, anything to stop the dizziness.

  "Hey, Maggie." He pulled her against his chest. "Easy now. We're not done."

  "Yes, we are."

  "No, we're not."

  "I'm going home, Jeremy. I should have gone home a long time ago. I quit. I give up. I surrender. Keith can have his secret life."

  "No, that's not happening. You're not quitting. You can't leave in the middle of an adventure."

  "It's not an adventure. It's a nightmare, and--"

  Jeremy's mouth cut off the rest of her sentence. She pushed against his chest, trying to end the kiss, but he was too strong, and far too good a kisser. He drew her resistance out along with her breath.

  Who the heck was she fighting anyway? Keith didn't want her. Jeremy did.

  But you have children and a dog and no job, a little voice whispered.

  "Sh-sh," she said.

  Jeremy raised his head and smiled at her, "I didn't say anything."

  "And I don't want you to say anything, not one word."

  He stared back at her, waiting.

  "I want to go to Santa Barbara. I still want to find Keith and Serena. But first..." She drew in a deep breath. "I want you to take me upstairs and make love to me."

  His eyes darkened. "For revenge? Or because you want me?"

  She hesitated.

  "On second thought, I don't want to know," he said quickly.

  "Well, I can't have a great adventure without a love scene. Write me one, Jeremy. Tell me what to say, how to act, where to touch you."

  "Maybe we should start with the elevator." He pulled her over to the bank of elevators and pushed the button.

  "I've never made love in an elevator before," Maggie said as they stepped inside.

  "Neither have I, and I wasn't planning on doing it here."

  Maggie smiled "Why not? The train was fun."

  "That was for you."

  "Well, this could be for you." Maggie reached for the top button on his jeans.

  Jeremy grabbed her before she could undo it. "I don't think so." He breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator doors opened on their floor.

  Maggie didn't feel scared anymore, but excited and eager. Her frustration and discouragement needed a release and tomorrow would be soon enough to face reality. Tonight she was going to let herself have one hell of a fantasy.

  Jeremy unlocked his door while she unzipped his pants. They stumbled into the room together.

  "I think I created a monster," Jeremy said. "What happened to the woman who wanted me to write the love scene?"

  "She decided it's about time she wrote her own love scene."

  "So how does it start?" Jeremy asked.

  "You take off your clothes."

  "Me? What about you?"

  "You can take off my clothes after you take off yours."

  Jeremy pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a solid, muscular chest. Maggie caught her breath at the sight of him. He was beautifully made. No flab. Just enough light brown hair to tangle her fingers in.

  His pants fell to the floor, and he stood before her in a sexy black bikini with a very large bulge in the front. He put his thumbs on either side of the bikini and slowly peeled it down.

  "Oh, my God!" Maggie said in wonder and delight. "You're incredible." She l
ooked into his eyes. "Can I touch you?"

  "You'd better."

  She started with his shoulders, then let her fingers drift down his chest past his navel, around his hip bones, the flat of his abdomen and down into the heart of him, which was as hard as everything else.

  Jeremy groaned. "Your turn," he said. "I want to watch you."

  "Me?" Maggie asked somewhat nervously. She knew what she had -- lots of generous curves, a few stretch marks, a thirty-one-year-old body that had only seen the light of day in front of one man to this point.

  "You. Take it off."

  Maggie stepped back against the wall. She pulled off her knit shirt, embarrassed by her white linen bra. But Jeremy seemed more interested in the luscious cleavage now showing. She'd always had big breasts. In fact, she'd been self-conscious about them for most of her life, but in front of Jeremy's interested gaze, she couldn't help feeling proud.

  She slipped off her jeans.

  "I never thought white underwear was sexy," Jeremy said. "Until now."

  Maggie licked her lips, not sure she had the nerve to pull off the rest of her clothes. It would be so much easier if he would do it. No! She was writing this love scene. She opened her bra before she could find a reason not to and flung it on the floor. Then she pushed her panties down, hoping Jeremy would like what he saw.

  "My God!" he said, echoing her words with a smile. "Is that all for me?"

  "Yes." She slid her arms around his waist, pressing her white breasts against his tan chest, the delicious friction sending a tingle from one end of her body to the other. His hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her into the curve of his thigh until she could feel him pressing against her. She'd never felt so ready so fast.

  "Maybe we should try out the bed," Jeremy said.

  "No, here, standing up. I want to wrap my legs around your waist and--"

  Jeremy's mouth sought hers, hot and wet and greedy. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he brought her back down, penetrating her body, filling her with himself, taking away her sense of emptiness until she felt complete.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lisa slipped out of bed with the sun. As she pulled on her clothes, Nick sat up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes -- not that they'd gotten much sleep after making love all night long.