Only Forever. Linda Lael Miller

went back to the dance floor, and Nick held her. It was an innocent intimacy but it stirred Vanessa’s senses, which had been largely dormant for the better part of a year, to an alarming pitch of need.

      Every time she dared to meet Nick’s eyes, it was as though he had taken away an item of her clothing, and yet she could not resist looking at him. The dilemma was at once delicious and maddening, and Vanessa was relieved when Nick didn’t offer to drive her home at the end of the evening.

      Paul lingered on the sidewalk for a few minutes, talking with Nick, while Vanessa and Janet settled themselves in the car.

      “Well,” Janet demanded the moment she’d snapped her seat belt into place, “what did you think of him?”

      Vanessa drew in a deep breath and let it out in an agitated rush. “I think I should have stayed home with my needlepoint,” she said.

      Janet turned in the car seat to look back at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. The man is a hunk!”

      Only now, when her nostrils weren’t filled with the subtle scent of his cologne and her body wasn’t pressed to his could Vanessa be rational and objective where Nick DeAngelo was concerned. “He’s also a jock,” she said miserably. “Do you have any idea how egotistical those men can be? Not to mention callous and self-serving?”

      Janet sighed. “Not every man is like Parker,” she insisted.

      The conversation was cut off at that point because Paul came back to the car, whistling cheerfully as he slid behind the wheel. Vanessa shrank into the corner of the seat, wishing, all in the same moment, that the night would end, that she could go back in time and say no to Nick’s suggestion that they spend the next day together and that tomorrow would hurry up and arrive so she could see him again.

      “Thanks,” she said ruefully when Paul saw her to her door a few minutes later.

      He smiled as she turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “Sounds as if you have mixed feelings about Nick,” he commented.

      Vanessa kicked off her high heels the moment she’d crossed the threshold. “I have no feelings about Nick,” she argued, facing Paul but keeping her eyes averted. “Absolutely none.”

      Her boss chuckled. “Good night, Van,” he said, and then he was gone, striding back down the front walk to his car.

      Vanessa locked the door, slipped out of her velvet evening coat and bent to pick up her discarded shoes. Her calico cat, Sari, curled around her ankles, meowing.

      Sari had already had her supper, and even though she had a weight problem, Vanessa couldn’t turn a deaf ear to her plaintive cries. She set her purse, coat and shoes down on the deacon’s bench in the hallway and allowed herself to be herded into the kitchen.

      Even before she flipped on the lights, she saw the blinking red indicator on the answering machine. Vanessa was in no mood to deal with relationships of any kind that night; she wanted to feed the cat and go to bed. Her own innate sense of responsibility—some calamity could have befallen Rodney or her aging grandparents—made her cross the room and push the play button.

      She was opening a can of cat food and scraping it into Sari’s dish when Parker’s voice filled the kitchen.

      The first message was relatively polite, but, as the tape progressed, Parker grew more and more irate. Finally he flared, “Don’t you ever stay home? Damn it, call me!”

      Vanessa had washed her hands and was about to turn off the machine when Nick’s voice rolled over her like a warm, rumbling wave. “You’re a terrific lady,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow.”

      Vanessa moaned faintly and sank into a chair, propping her chin in both hands. With a few idle words, the man had melted the muscles in her knees.

      “Good night,” he said, his voice deep and gentle, and then the tape was silent.

      After a few moments of sheer bewilderment, Vanessa got up and checked the locks on both the front and back doors. Then, taking her coat and shoes with her, Sari padding along beside her, she went upstairs.

      She hung her coat carefully in the closet and put the shoes back into their plastic box. Soon she was in bed, but sleep eluded her.

      She kept imagining what it would be like to lie beside Nick DeAngelo, in this bed or any other, and have him touch her, kiss her, make love to her. Just the thought made her ache.

      Sometime toward morning, Vanessa slept. The telephone awakened her to a full complement of sunshine, and she grappled for the receiver, losing it several times before she managed to maneuver it into place.

      “Hello,” she accused, shoving one hand through her rumpled hair and scowling.

      After knowing him such a short time, it seemed impossible, but she recognized Nick’s laughter. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re not a morning person.”

      Vanessa narrowed her eyes to peer at the clock and saw that it was nearly nine o’clock. She was glad Nick had called, she decided, because that gave her a chance to cancel their date. “Listen, I’ve been thinking—”

      He cut her off immediately. “Well, stop. You’ve obviously in no condition for that kind of exertion. I’ll be over in ten minutes to ply you with coffee.”

      “Nick!” Vanessa cried, afraid of being plied. But it was too late, he’d already hung up and she had no idea what his home telephone number was.

      Grumbling, she got out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom and took a shower. By the time Nick arrived, she was clad in jeans and a blue bulky knit sweater and was fully conscious.

      She greeted him at the front door, holding a cup of therapeutically strong coffee in one hand. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you on the phone, but…”

      Nick grinned in that disarming way he had and assessed her trim figure with blatant appreciation. “Good, you’re dressed,” he said, walking past her into the house.

      “You expected me to be naked?” Vanessa wanted to know.

      He laughed. “I’m allowed my share of fantasies, aren’t I?”

      Vanessa shook her head. Nick was impossible to shun. He was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, and he had the look of a man who knew where he was going to spend that chilly, sun-washed Saturday. “Come in, come in,” she chimed wryly as he preceded her down the hallway to the kitchen. “Don’t be shy.”

      He grinned at her over one shoulder. “I’ve never been accused of that,” he assured her.

      Vanessa had no doubt he was telling the truth. She gave up. “Where are we going?”

      “Running,” he said. “Then I thought we’d take in a movie….”

      Vanessa was holding up both hands in a demand for silence. “Wait a minute, handsome—rewind to the part about running.”

      Nick dragged his languorous brown eyes from the toes of her sneakers to the crown of her head. “Bad idea? You certainly look like someone who cares about fitness.”

      She sighed and poured her coffee into the sink. “Thank you—I think.”

      “I guess we could skip running—just for today,” he said, stepping closer to her.

      Vanessa’s senses went on red alert, and she leaped backward as though he’d burned her. “On second thought, running sounds like a great idea,” she said, in a squeaky voice, embarrassed. “You seem to have a lot of—of extra energy.”

      He favored her with slow, sensuous grin. “Oh, believe me,” he said with quiet assurance, “I do.”

      Vanessa swallowed. It was beyond her how accepting a single blind date could get a person into so much trouble. She swore to herself that the next time Janet and Paul wanted to introduce her to someone, she was going to hide in the cellar until