Nick slung his arm over his face, laughed softly then glanced at Mia, breathing as heavily as he was. When he could muster up the energy, he rolled to pull her against him until her breasts pressed into his chest. He ran a hand down her back then squeezed her bottom and left his hand there. There, that was perfect.
He sighed and sank into the minutes they had left. “We need a vacation.”
Mia snuggled into him, made a sound of agreement.
“And we need to get married.”
She made another sound of agreement and smiled against his chest. “Yeah. Like either of us has time for a vacation or a wedding.”
“We could elope.”
“Mmm. Tempting. My parents would kill me after they killed you. And Hannah would cry over not getting all dolled up.”
“True.” Threading his fingers through her hair, he tilted her face to his. Lightly touched a finger to her beautiful, smiling lips. “But as soon as we get a break, we’ll do both.”
“Yes. But… things are good now, right?”
His hand cruised over and under the curve of her bottom, and he pulled her thigh higher over his, bringing her flush against him. “If they got any better, I might not survive.” He wanted her again already. It was like this with them. Their hearts always beating to the same wild rhythm.
Four days later, when he finally got off work early enough to catch his breath, Nick walked into Gary Mason’s Jewelers. He and Mia’s conversation in bed had been turning over in his mind. He wanted everything to be perfect and knew she did too. The perfect time, the perfect start to their married life. Perfect was overrated, and he was done thinking it to death.
No more calendar comparisons, no more excuses. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. Yeah, they were already spending their life together, living in sin, but he wanted more. He wanted his ring on her finger. That part, at least, didn’t have to wait.
He had at least an hour, more if he needed it, since Mia was picking up Hannah today. He moved decisively down the glass case with an exact picture in his mind of the ring. He just had to find it. And he did. The delicate white-gold band was perfect for Mia’s slim fingers. The two-carat, square-cut diamond was set low so it wouldn’t get in her way at work. Clear, sparkling, and even more beautiful for its simplicity. Just like Mia.
Nick walked out of the jewelry store elated. They’d take this step now, and the rest of it wouldn’t wait much longer. She was off graveyard rotation this Thursday, and he was between big cases for the moment, so it would have to be then. His pulse skittered and danced thinking of how he would ask her. At dinner? Maybe in bed? Because after she said yes, her clothes wouldn’t stay on long. He fingered the small velvet-lined box in his pocket, very nearly whistling a tune.
He rarely got excited, was often accused of being too reserved to the point of needing his pulse checked, but it was going to be damn hard to wait until Thursday.
His cell buzzed in his other pocket, and he clicked the button to answer, noting it was almost four thirty. Mia would have picked up Hannah from UVA by now. Jesus, his sister was smart. Fourteen and taking two college classes, and kicking ass at them.
He smiled again, knowing the two of them would be singing at the top of their lungs to some chick song on the radio. Probably calling to ask what he wanted them to pick up for dinner.
“Hey, babe.”
“Nick.”
There was a strangled tone to her voice he’d never heard before, enough to bring him to a dead halt in the middle of the sidewalk. “Mia?”
“Hannah’s missing.”
Hannah’s missing. The two words that would shape and scrape and chip away at the rest of all their lives. Those same two words from years ago at the football game, only he knew in his gut that this time it was much worse.
* * *
Present day…
A FEW DAYS AFTER seeing Mia in her office, Nick stood in line behind his partner Mike at the sandwich counter. Serving deli sandwiches, salads, coffees, Norfolk’s Yoyo’s Cafe was a popular spot near his office and well worth the wait. He’d even tried their take-home casseroles a few times. Closest thing to a home-cooked meal, and just being one person, they lasted him a few days.
“So you won’t believe what my wife says to me yesterday,” Mike said. “She says, ‘Why’d you marry me if you hate my sister?’ I said, ‘I don’t hate your sister.’ I’m thinking to myself she can be annoying, maybe she stays too long when she comes, but I don’t say that, do I?”
“Of course not.”
Five ten, with dark hair and a soft face, Mike Stanislavsky was straight-up Jersey. A damn good agent and tougher than he looked. Except when it came to his wife, Teresa.
Mike turned to order his sandwich, and Nick ran his gaze over the nearby tables. The Cobb salad looked good. So did the Rueben. He was just about to check out the menu written on a giant black chalkboard behind the counter when he caught sight of Mia. She sat alone, facing the wall at a small table back in the corner, but he knew it was her. His heart thumped.
He still wasn’t over the shock of seeing her after all this time, and he was glad for the moment now to just look at her. It gave him time to breathe, bombarded with all the feelings and memories that weren’t really memories because they were always right there.
Then a man slid into the seat across from her in a smooth way that said it wasn’t the first time they’d eaten together.
“Sir?”
He jerked his attention back to the counter and the man impatiently waiting for his order. He gave it and caught up with Mike at a table.
“So,” Mike continued as soon as Nick sat. “Then she says I’m keeping her from seeing her sister because I mentioned there was the game on Saturday.”
Nick struggled to focus on Mike when what he really wanted to do was stare at the guy sitting across from Mia. “You don’t want her sister there during the game?”
“No, I don’t want her sister’s husband there during the game.”
“Why?”
Mike looked at him like he was an idiot. “Because he’s a fucking Sox from Boston.”
“Oh.” Nick stared past Mike at the man sitting with Mia. His sandy brown hair was long enough to flop over his forehead, and he wore a brown leather jacket and black skinny jeans. Who wore a leather jacket in May? Who the hell wore skinny jeans?
Mike glanced behind then back. “Uh oh.”
“Huh?”
A young girl brought their sandwiches and took the little stand with their table number.
“I know that’s not your sister.”
“No. She’s not.” The guy leaned toward Mia, elbows on the table, close into her space. Her arms were also on the table. She didn’t lean into him, but she didn’t back away either. Instead, she slid him a second cup of coffee, which he took with a smile. She’d bought him coffee? She was meeting him for coffee, and the prick didn’t even buy her a latte? His jaw ticked.
Shit. She’d been so close to him and for how long, he wondered? And why here, in Norfolk? Was she happy? Were she and that guy together?
“Ah.” Mike nodded slowly as understanding dawned. “So I repeat. Uh oh.”
“It’s nothing.”
Mike picked up his sandwich. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not nothing. Not with your eyes shooting daggers across the damn room.”
Nick picked up his sandwich.
“Do I need to confiscate your firearm?”
“No.” But it was hard to eat with his jaw so tight. Hard to swallow with a lump in his throat.
Was she more than just with him? He’d only let the idea of Mia loving someone else slip past his defenses a handful of times over the years. But why wouldn’t she? Mia had a lot of love to give even if she’d stopped giving it to him.
Only a few times had he let himself go back to those times, given in to the memories and feelings of having Mia’s love. He couldn’t afford to do it often, because his heart wanted so badly to stay there.
He wasn’t so angry anymore. If Hannah needed someone, he was glad she’d had Mia, but why hadn’t he known?
Mike went on about his wife, and he tried to follow. “So why don’t you just watch the game somewhere else?”
“Uh… because I just bought that big-ass screen to watch the game. Besides, why do I want some fucking Sox fan watching the game on my new TV, rubbing his fucking Sox junk all over my new couch?”
“You’ve got a point.”
“Damn right I do. You see, that’s the problem with getting married. You can date someone and have sex and everything else, but the second you get married—bam. You’re supposed to love every other blood relative and even ones who aren’t blood.”
Nick nodded. One thing he’d learned from his partner: New Jersey families were like mini nations complete with their own hundred-year wars, treaties, and alliances. And all of them so damn tightly bonded, it made the constant bitching funny. Mia and her companion had fallen into what looked like a serious conversation. Though Mia was doing most of the talking, the man nodding. When he spoke, her chin dropped. After some time, he reached out and laid his hand over hers in what looked like comfort. Nick hated that it wasn’t him.
“So, who is she?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand, though he wanted to. He and Mike had been friends for years, partners, for almost a decade, yet Mike knew nothing of the woman Nick had once planned to marry. “Someone I used to know.”
“By the way you’re grinding your teeth, I’d say you more than knew her.”
Nick watched Mia turn the cup in her hand. “You’d be right about that.”
Oddly, his admission shut Mike up, and they ate in silence.
Minutes later, Mia pushed back in her chair slowly, almost reluctantly. The asshole did the same then stepped into her space, closer than casual. Mia nodded at whatever he said, and they embraced.
When the guy cupped her shoulders and kissed her cheek, Nick pushed back, glad when his chair scraped the floor.
The man was out the door and off in a rush, leaving Mia to drop her empty cup in the trash. Well, he had trash to drop, too, didn’t he? He stood.
“Shit,” Mike muttered behind him.
In three strides, he met her at the trash can. “Hey.”
She looked up, obviously surprised. “Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t like the look in her eyes. Had that skinny-jeans-wearing asshole put it there? “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I’ll do it anyway.” He waited for her to move past then reached across her body to open the door. Together, they stepped outside, and he had a flash of another day they’d walked outside together. He was sure he smelled that same fresh citrus scent.
They walked silently to her car and stopped. The sky had darkened to an ominous steel blue. The wind bent the small trees in the parking lot. Mia’s eyes met his then looked away quickly. Wary. His fault. They hadn’t exactly left things on a good note in her office a few days back. Also his fault.
There was something else in her eyes, something sad. Lost. What had happened to his Mia? At one time, they’d both been so sure of themselves. Of each other and what they were together.
“I want to apologize for the other day. And in the hospital. I shouldn’t have come at you like that. It was a shock, seeing you, and then with Hannah’s thing and… I was…”
“Upset?”
He huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah. You could say that. I’m glad Hannah had you, has you, if she needs to talk to someone.” His eyes searched hers, ran over her face, lower, then back to her lips. “She’s seeing that guy again. McKinney.”
“I know.”
Right. She probably knew before he did. He tried not to let that bother him. How the hell could he protect Hannah, or anyone, if he didn’t know what was going on?
“I know his sister, Lizzie. We met through some area psychology groups. Of course I can’t vouch for Stephen, but she’s a good person. They’re a nice family, if that helps.”
“It does.” But his mind was suddenly less on that and more on the woman in front of him.
A cool downdraft of air pushed against them and pressed the pale silk blouse against Mia’s breasts. A piece of hair blew over her face, and he reached to tuck it behind her ear. So did she, and their fingers brushed. He felt the sizzle all the way up his arm, and again, his eyes went to her lips. He knew the taste of them, the feel of them on his.
Had that man kissed them? Did he know how she tasted there? Everywhere? Without thought, his body moved closer like it knew where it belonged. “Who was that man?”
Her only response was to raise one delicate eyebrow. Of course, it was none of his business. That didn’t help a damn bit. But she looked tired, and there was something in her eyes. “He upset you.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“You never could lie to me.”
“I never tried.”
What would she do if he leaned in and covered her mouth with his? He could barely think, standing close enough to touch her, and didn’t trust his hand not to shake if he did. She was his. She’d always been his. The thought of another man touching her… It didn’t make sense, the jealousy after all this time. But it didn’t have to make sense. What was between them didn’t make sense—it just was.
And it was in the past. But it didn’t feel like the past. It felt like right fucking now. She was right here, right now. He could smell her. Would swear he could feel the strands of her hair slipping through his fingers like water. God, he wanted to touch her. “Are you dating him?”
“Nick.” She looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was.
“He’s not your type,” he said, more angry than he had a right to be.
She shifted, her eyes narrowing. “Well, it’s been a long time. Maybe you don’t know me anymore.”
Chapter 13
NICK FEATHERED HIS THUMB over her cheek, and her breath backed up in her lungs.
“I know you,” he said.
Didn’t he know how much it hurt to see him? To touch him? Didn’t he know how much she had suffered at being without him? She didn’t see any sign of suffering in his eyes, but then again, she couldn’t read his eyes like she had once.
Still so beautiful, she thought, but there were slight differences she hadn’t noticed before. A little older, tougher. The angles of his handsome face a little sharper. She tried not to notice the dark polo shirt stretched across his chest, remembering the way her cheek had rested so perfectly there. Tried not to look at the sleeves hugging his arms. He’d always been broad shouldered and strong, but he seemed bigger now, harder, sexier, or maybe she’d just forgotten.
No. She hadn’t forgotten anything. Her heart raced, remembering the feel of him under her hands. Her gaze fell lower, to the wide stance of his hips. He carried a gun, which was hot, not that he needed any help in that area. He’d always been a little out of her league in that regard. Like he was the tall, dark, and male half of Mr. and Mrs. Smith with his badge and his holstered handgun, while she was closer to chess club champion. But they’d fit. They’d fit like they’d come from the same mold.
He took a step closer until her body was sandwiched between his and her car. Not even touching her, but so close she could feel him. Too close. His powerful, confident stance was as much a part of him as his dark, intelligent eyes staring deeply into hers. He had her pinned with both now.
His dark gaze swept the length of her, making her shiver. Slowly, he tucked another blowing tendril behind her ear, and a hot tingling sensation shot straight through her. She bit her lip and looked at the cracked asphalt beneath her feet. She didn’t want to feel this way. It was ridiculous; it made her angry.
With a finger under her chin, he brought her eyes up to his. “I haven’t seen you in ten years. Can’t you even look at me?”
Her stomach clenched at the softness in his voice an
d his melted-chocolate eyes. It was easier when he was angry with her. She gripped her keys tighter until the metal dug into her palm. She didn’t want him to see what was in her heart, and if he looked too long, he would. But then, because he’d asked, she did, and she didn’t want to look away. She’d missed his eyes. Dreamed of them.
Her hand came up to rest of its own accord on his chest, and their gazes held. If seeing him again made her face hot and her pulse pound, being this close to him made her dizzy. Touching him broke her heart. Ten years was surely long enough to get over someone, plenty long enough.
But if their end had all been about Hannah, then why not come back to her after Hannah had recovered? Unless he really blamed her. Or unless there had been something else that made him stop loving her. Because that’s what he’d done. And in order to survive, she’d forced herself to do the same. He hadn’t just broken her heart, he’d shattered her.
She dropped her hand. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was so soft, her words almost caught up by the wind.
“It’s still the same,” he whispered.
“No. No, it’s not.” She felt the tears in her eyes, knew he would hear them in her voice, and hated it. She opened her car door and got in, and, just before she closed it, gave him one last look. “Nothing’s the same.”
* * *
Twelve years ago…
MIA SAT IN THE police station interview room, an untouched can of soda on the metal table in front of her. She wasn’t a suspect in a crime, knew they’d only snagged this room out of convenience, but she felt guilty. So much she was sick with it.
There was nothing left in her stomach to throw up, and she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Was it just yesterday that Hannah had disappeared? It seemed like years, every second ticking by like a deadly countdown.
Worth the Wait (McKinney/Walker #1) Page 10