“Want to go for a walk?” Amanda asked her mother after dinner on the Wednesday following Christmas. She needed to get out of the cabin, a cedar A-frame, perfect for skiing vacations.
Holidays had been traumatic for the family since her sister’s death. For her mother’s sake, Amanda had agreed to celebrate this—the second one without Lisa—with her parents in Aspen. Lisa’s loss still hurt. And she missed Nick. They’d been unable to juggle their busy schedules to connect before she left.
Spending so much time in such an enclosed space with her father exacerbated her restlessness. He kept bringing up her job, and she could feel her self-confidence drain with each of his cutting remarks.
As she and her mother walked a pedestrian trail at the famous ski resort, the muscles in Amanda’s neck began to loosen. She watched her breath make puffs in front of her and felt the cold air prickle her skin.
“He doesn’t mean it, you know,” Joan commented without preliminaries.
Amanda didn’t need to ask who or what. “Doesn’t he, Mother? It seems his favorite pastime lately.”
Joan frowned into the darkness. Amanda could see it in the dim walking lights spaced every few feet. “He’s scared, dear.”
Stopping midstride, Amanda stared at her mother for a moment. “My father has never been afraid of anything in his whole life.”
Her mother rubbed her calfskin-gloved hands together. “That was true until Lisa died. After that, everything was different.” When Amanda gave no response, Joan asked, “For you, too?”
Amanda felt the familiar inner chill that mention of Lisa’s death brought on. Seeking warmth, she hugged herself tightly. “Yes. I saw how empty my life was.”
“That’s why you made so many changes, isn’t it?”
Feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes, Amanda wished she could attribute them to the wind which had picked up. But the moisture was caused by the realization that this was the very first time her mother had asked her anything about the reason behind her behavior in the past year and a half.
She and Joan had never been close. They’d never talked deeply about anything. It was always as if her mother was trying to adhere to her husband’s ideas and codes and had none of her own. Only lately had Amanda had any inkling that Joan had opinions different from Robert’s.
But she never blamed her mother. Joan was the typical wife in a typically wealthy family. Amanda herself had been just like her in many ways. And maybe Suzanne Sullivan was, too. This was the second time she’d compared Nick’s ex-wife to her mother, to herself, and she filed the thought away for future examination. Tugging her coat closer around her, she glanced at Joan. “Yes, that’s why I’ve made so many changes.”
“I thought so. If it helps any, I think you’ve made some good decisions.”
Again, Amanda was so taken aback, she stopped walking again. “Surely you didn’t agree with my decision to divorce Porter. You made your disapproval very clear at the time.”
Joan halted a few steps from her daughter. “At the time, I did think it was a mistake. But in the last few months, you’ve seemed so much more alive and involved, like your life took on a meaning it didn’t have before.”
Warmth radiated through Amanda. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
“I’d like to hear about it, if you want to talk.”
“Let me tell you about these kids in my group, then.” Amanda reached out and linked her arm with her mother’s.
They strolled and talked and Amanda was filled with an unfamiliar hope as they headed back to the cabin. The snow began to blow and the pathway narrowed, so they were forced to walk single file. Then Amanda felt the icy mush hit her on the side of the head. She turned, stunned to find her mother hurling another ice-packed snowball at her.
“Mother, what are you doing? This isn’t you,” she blurted out and was rewarded with another direct hit to her shoulder.
Joan giggled, her cheeks glowing a rosy red in the path lights and her eyes sparkling. “I know, and it feels wonderful.”
Another whack catapulted the daughter into action.
They were laughing like children, complete with runny noses and watery eyes from the too-long time they’d spent outdoors, when they arrived at the A-frame two hours after they left.
Wet and bedraggled, Amanda preceded her mother through the door and stopped both her entry and her laughing as she came face-to-face with Craig Coleman. She blinked, hoping she was imagining him, when her father said, “Say hello to Craig, darling.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to treat your fiancé?” Craig leaned against the doorway, looking deceptively innocent.
She had to shake her head to clear it. Had she heard him correctly? “Have you forgotten our conversation last month, Craig?”
He dropped the Southern-gentleman act. Straightening from the casual pose, he squared his shoulders. Amanda noticed how the navy-and-white patterned ski sweater accented his thinness. “No, I haven’t. But I’d hoped you had. I’ve given you weeks to reconsider and I was sure you’d come to your senses by now. So when your father invited me up here, I came.” The last bit was added smugly.
“Of all the...” But she stopped midsentence and turned to Robert. “You invited him? Father, I explained to both Mother and you that Craig wouldn’t be joining us for the holidays. Why would you ask him here against my wishes?”
Her father rose from the leather chair where he’d been watching the byplay, his features pinched. “Oh, for God’s sake, Amanda. You never did know your own mind. I’ve done what’s best for you, as always.”
Stalking over to him, Amanda went up on tiptoe so her face was close to his. “No, you’ve done what you think is best. I will not tolerate your interference in my life like this.”
“Remember who you’re talking to, young lady.” Robert’s tone was clearly warning, but there was a quiver of doubt in his voice and a trace of apprehension in his eyes as he looked down at his defiant daughter.
Without a word, Amanda turned on her heels and headed upstairs. Ten minutes later, she returned with a small Louis Vuitton overnight case. She spoke only to Joan as she donned her coat. “I’m sorry about this, Mother, but I’m forced to leave. Could you bring the rest of my things back with you when you come home?”
Joan nodded her assent. Amanda knew her mother wouldn’t speak up against her father, but the approval in her eyes and the squeeze she gave her shoulder as Amanda bent to kiss her were silent support.
Pulling on her gloves, Amanda marched to the door. She was about to open it, when Craig spoke.
“I just hope this doesn’t have anything to do with Nick DiMarco,” he said silkily.
His comment brought her up short. She turned to Craig warily, hoping there was still color in her face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, darling, that I hope that seedy little hug I witnessed in the foyer at the library a few weeks ago has nothing to do with your sudden decision not to marry me.”
Amanda was still reeling from his comment when her father asked, “What are you talking about?”
“I think Amanda is involved somehow with the father of one of her students.” Craig eased away from the chair he’d leaned against and slid his hands into the pockets of his navy wool sport coat. “I saw her with him and made a few inquiries, afterward. Robert, do you know Joshua Cohen?”
“Of course.”
“Well, Cohen’s wife, Suzanne, was married to Amanda’s Mr. DiMarco years ago. It seems our struggling lawyer-to-be has a penchant for wealthy socialites.”
Amanda felt the bile rise in her throat. She knew Suzanne Cohen by name. She’d seen the woman at various social functions, but she’d never made the connection that this was Heather’s mother. Nick’s ex-wife! And she was not flattered at the comparison Nick had made between her and Suzanne.
Craig smirked. “Really, darling, I’d have guessed it was his, how shall I say this, his virility that attracted you if I didn’t know you better.”
The attack might have hurt, but Amanda conjured Nick’s words that night at her house.
If you were any more enough, Amanda Carson, I’d be bursting out of my jeans right now.
She stared Craig down from the doorway. “You’re a bastard, Craig. I always knew that, but I didn’t know how much of one until just now. Goodbye, Mother. I’ll call you when I get a flight.”
Robert started toward her but stopped halfway. “You’ll never get a flight on such short notice, Amanda, not on the holiday. Don’t be childish. Take off your coat, now.” Though his tone was peremptory, there was an underlying anxiety in it.
With a sweeping glance at both her father and Craig, she said, “I’d sooner sleep in the airport than under a roof with the two of you.”
o0o
Five hours later, Amanda still felt the same, though she was exhausted and dispirited. There were no seats to New York, though she was on standby for several flights. She was tired and hungry but the satisfaction she felt at walking out on Craig’s insults and her father’s demands gave her stamina. It also gave her the courage to make a phone call. She drummed her fingers on the chair as she waited on her cell.
“Hello.”
“Nick?”
“Amanda?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“At Stapleton Airport.”
She could hear his slight gasp of surprise. “Wonderful. I’m glad you’re cutting short your holiday. When do you get to Syracuse?”
“Well, that’s a good question.” She started to giggle. Oh, God, she was getting punchy.
Nick hesitated, then asked, “Honey, are you all right?” His voice lowered to that deep, familiar timbre it had when he was touching her. “I’ve missed you.”
Amanda felt the warmth of his admission curl through her. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“What’s happened?”
Alternating between laughter and anger, she gave him an edited version, leaving out Craig’s revelation.
When she was done, he swore colorfully. “Why do these men think they can do this to you?”
There was a long pause from her end. “Because they always have, Nick. I’ve always let them.”
This time, the silence came from him. She never expected the chuckle that followed. “I find that very hard to believe, Amanda Carson. It’s certainly not a trait of the feisty woman I know.”
She felt as if a hundred-pound weight had been removed from her shoulders. “It isn’t, is it?” Amanda’s response was slightly breathless.
Nick’s voice got even huskier. “No. And I want the woman I know to come back here. Come home to me, sweetheart, as soon as you can.”
o0o
Nick slid his hand around the back of the couch just to feel Amanda’s skin again. He hadn’t been able to stop touching her since he’d picked her up for dinner before a New Year’s Eve celebration at Beth’s.
He’d splurged on La Belle Gourmand, a fancy restaurant that Tony had recommended and gotten them a reservation there. As he’d sat across from her and watched her white teeth sink into a plump shrimp, he’d wondered how he would keep himself in check. The thought had plagued him the entire evening, as the gold of her one-piece outfit shimmered around her. Every time she moved, the slinky material glided over her body. When he caught a whiff of her perfume, it reminded him of dim bedrooms and satin sheets. And now, when she curled into his hand, her soft nape rubbing against his callused palm, he wondered if he had the strength to control himself. He wanted to be her guide and partner through a journey of discovery into her sensuality, but to do it he had to rein in his libido.
Beth snagged his attention when she sat down across from them. “I can’t believe you came,” she said to her brother. Then, facing Amanda, she smiled. “I have you to thank, for that and a lot of other things.”
Amanda’s face flushed becomingly at the praise and Nick settled his hand on her shoulder. Would everything about her always please him so much?
Just enjoy the night. No one’s ever talked in terms of a future.
He leaned forward to catch the end of his sister’s comment. “How long did you wait for a flight?” Beth asked.
Amanda laughed and threaded her hand through her hair. “Thirty-six hours. But it was worth it to get back here early.”
Beth beamed and Nick realized his sister thought that Amanda was referring to being able to spend New Year’s Eve with him. She was, however, indicating her relief at escaping from her father and Craig Coleman. Damn those bastards.
As he watched her talk to Beth, he toyed with her hair, loving its familiar texture, thinking about the day and a half it had taken her to get back to New York. He’d worried about her all night, and in the twilight hours just before the sun rose, he’d come to the conclusion that Amanda Carson needed gentle, careful handling or her fragile ego would be bruised. And he didn’t intend to be another addition to the list of men who wanted her as a trophy, cared nothing about her needs and squelched the independence that she craved. Those were the very qualities that he admired in her, and he intended to nurture them.
Nick was distracted when she reached over and touched his knee in an unconscious caress. “I slept for fourteen hours straight when I got home yesterday. I think it was the best night’s rest I’ve had in years.”
As the evening wore on and they mingled with the other guests, Nick felt Amanda gravitate toward him physically. She would sidle up to him in a group, inviting him to sneak his arm around her waist. He’d gently massage the slender indentation there and tug her a little closer. Once, when one of Beth’s bookstore friends became overly eager and snaked his arm around Amanda’s shoulder, she politely eased from under his grip and stood behind Nick so that his body half shielded her from the other man. He could feel her breasts against the back of his arm and his biceps tightened in response. Sensing it, she’d swayed into him and rested her cheek briefly against his jacket. He swore he could feel the satiny smoothness of her skin straight through the wool. He was ready to turn and throw her over his shoulder fireman-carry style, stalk from the room, find any dark, private place and bury himself in her warmth. Though the notion was appealing, he knew he could never behave in such a Neanderthal way with her because of her past. And because of his. Loss of control was one thing he could not have in his life. Instead, he had pulled her around and hugged her tightly.
“Are you staying until midnight, Nicky?” Beth asked.
He shook his head, ready for the protest from his possessive sibling. But it never came. Arching an eyebrow, Beth quipped, “Got a private party planned?”
Nick looked to Amanda for confirmation. He hadn’t told her much beyond Beth’s party. She stared at him for a moment, then smiled slightly with her mouth but her eyes were glowing with sexual intensity. He read all sorts of age-old, male-female messages in them.
His own eyes never left Amanda’s. “Looks like we do, Bethy. Looks like we do.”
o0o
They reached her house at eleven-thirty. Nick brought champagne that had cooled in the car. Popping it with ease, he filled the two fluted glasses Amanda had placed on the table in the room that faced the backyard. She could see snow falling softly beyond him, the delicate flakes a latticework against the trees. Her favorite soft jazz crooned in the background and a fire burned cozily in the hearth, but her senses were mostly attuned to the man before her. His navy jacket accented the broadness of his back. She loved the way he touched her with his large, work-roughened hands. The way his eyes smoldered when he looked down her body. The catch in his breath when she’d touched his chest. All of him made her feel utterly feminine.
He’d been staring out at the drifting snow, deep in thought, but he turned when she walked to him, and handed her a glass of champagne. His slate gray eyes glittered with anticipation.
Clinking his glass with hers, he smiled. “If you could have one New Year’s wish, Mandy, one that wasn’t for your kids or your family or for world peace, just for you, Amanda Carson the woman, what would it be?”
Startled by his question, she halted the drink halfway to her lips and was momentarily silenced. How honest could she be?
Reading her mind, he whispered, “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.” His voice was low and husky and he moved a step closer to her.
She held his gaze steadily. “I’d wish—” She broke off and sighed.
Raising his free hand, he stroked the underside of her jaw. “You can tell me.”
Her face full of emotion, she turned her cheek into his palm. “I have told you, Nick. I want to respond completely to a man like a normal woman does.”
“Still think you can’t?”
“Actually, with you, I think I can.”
His eyes never leaving hers, he said, “Amanda, I think I want to know the whole story behind this. Tell me about your marriage.”
“All right.”
He took her by the hand and led her to the couch. With gentle pressure to her shoulders, he sat her down. “Have a few sips of the wine.” After she did, he took the glass from her and set it on the table along with his, sank down beside her and pulled her into the security of his arms.
She laid her head on his chest as she began. “Porter is a nice man, but I think the relationship was as dull for him as it was for me. We grew up together, we’d been dating since high school and there was just no spark in anything we did...including sex.”
Sighing, Amanda remembered those early days when she and Porter had had an unimaginative and uninspiring first few years as a couple. “Our sexual problem only got worse. I finally talked to a doctor who gave me reading to do on it. Porter was horrified. He felt it was an invasion of his privacy. When I tried to talk to him about it, to tell him I was...”
“Unsatisfied?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “He told me he’d never had any complaints before.” She looked up at Nick. “Frankly, I was shocked there was a before for him. We’d been engaged all through college and got married right afterward.”
Nick’s grip tightened around her. “So I take it he was your first lover?”
She nodded. “I really did try. Romantic dinners, lacy nightgowns, wine. Nothing worked. He just couldn’t loosen up enough to take my suggestions. I guess Porter approached sex like he did everything else. Clinically. Neatly. At least with me. Finally, I gave up trying. We divorced amicably after seven years.”
When she remained silent, Nick smoothed the heavy hair off her face. “Porter is a fool. He was also wrong to shuffle this off on you. It was his fault.”
“It was partially his fault. And partially mine.”
“Did you ever make love with Coleman?”
She shook her head. “No. I responded to him about as much as I did to Porter. It scared me, though, because that made me believe it was all me.”
“And now?” She could hear the satisfaction in his voice, but confirmed what he seemed to need to hear aloud.
“Now I believe I just hadn’t found the right man.” As she said it, she drew back from him and looked into the face she was beginning to love.
He grinned at her, an elemental, male smile. “Well, a good lawyer always makes sure of his facts.”
She smiled back. “Yes, he does.”
“Shall we run a test case?”
“I think that’s a good idea. To be sure.”
Gently, he guided her onto his lap. “Better access,” he said. She watched his hand open the first five buttons on her dress. Her heartbeat thrummed in her chest and her skin heated up quicker than sand on a summer beach. God, she wanted this. He gazed at her breasts, barely visible through the lace of a black camisole, and she felt her nipples pucker through it.
He brushed his fingertips over them. “Mmm, real solid proof. Real evidence. I love the lingerie. Is the rest of it like this?” he whispered. She could only nod her head. “Can I see?” Again, she gave silent permission.
The silky material of her dress slithered down her body like a waterfall, but his hands ignited every inch of skin he touched. He shifted her slightly and the outfit soon lay at his feet. “God, you’re beautiful. So beautiful and so desirable. I want you, Mandy,” he breathed in her ear.
Sensations bombarded Amanda. The definite hardening of him beneath her almost-bare bottom. His hand teasing away the silk of her bra and cupping her breasts firmly. As she’d done the last time, Amanda arched into him, surprised by the feeling. His other hand cradled her hip. Slowly, he slid his palm up and down, up and down. Amanda wanted more and she squirmed on his lap.
“Careful. Do that again and I might embarrass myself.”
She smiled at his confession. It all felt so good.
But she was soon distracted as he took his hand on yet another expedition. He brought it down the front of her and rested it on the panties that covered her triangle of curls. Carefully, he slid it inside the lace band and down between her legs. He looked her square in the eye as he sank his fingers into her moist warmth. Easing them in and out, he whispered, “Ah, more evidence. See how you respond for me. You’re wet, and getting wetter. Just for me.” He continued the motion for a moment, then removed his hand from its glorious discovery.
She moaned at the loss.
“Oh, God, I love to hear how much you want me.”
“I do, Nick. And it feels wonderful.” After a pause, she added, “I want to touch you, too.”
It was Nick’s turn to moan. He seemed to struggle with the idea, and it took Amanda a moment to realize he was so aroused, he feared her touch. She smiled like a courtesan of ancient times.
“Don’t look at me like that and smile so seductively, or you’ll find yourself on your back in two seconds.”
She couldn’t help repeating the gesture. “Please let me touch you.”
He gritted his teeth. “Go ahead, I’ll take it as long as I can.”
Her hands floated to his body, as if they knew exactly what to do. Actually, they knew exactly what they’d always wanted to do to a man but had never had the chance. She slid off his lap and knelt next to him on the couch. Unbuttoning his shirt, she ran her hands through the springy hair and familiarized herself with the coarse, male feel of it.
“I wanted to do this for a long time. I wanted to know how your skin felt, to touch you here.”
She bent to kiss his breastbone and inhaled his woodsy scent. He jerked at her touch and grabbed her arms, but said nothing. She continued.
Leaning his head back against the couch, he closed his eyes. “I can’t look at you on your knees for me,” he growled hoarsely.
She laughed with growing self-confidence, bent over and placed her mouth on his chest. She kissed her way up to his neck and sucked beneath his jaw. She made her way to his mouth and covered it fully with hers. She devoured him, biting his lip. He groaned again.
“Oh, Nick, this feels so good, to touch you like this, to make you feel like this.”
“You think it feels good?” When she returned to his chest and flicked a nipple with her tongue, he said brokenly, “Damn. Hell. I...”
“You what?” She mimicked the words he’d used when he had her under his control like this a few minutes earlier.
“I...think...I’ve...created a Frankenstein.”
Amanda was awed that he could joke during this love play. In addition to the wonderful, responsive feelings it evoked, she realized that sex could also be fun.
o0o
Later, when Nick jogged down the steps of her house, he felt like the wisest and most foolish man on earth. He’d wound down the encounter with Amanda gently, allowing them both more kisses and caresses until he was sure he couldn’t take any more without taking her. Some God somewhere had given him the strength to stop her gentle assault, despite the demands of his body.
He truly believed it was best for Amanda to take this gradually, to dip her feet into the pool of sensuality in small steps. And he’d been able to convince her that she could respond as enthusiastically as he. What he didn’t know was why he’d done it this way. He could have taken her. He should have taken her. But he didn’t because it was best for her.
One notion haunted him. She’s still out of your league. Best to just enjoy her and not worry about afterward.
But he was slowly coming to fear that he might not be able to ever let her go.