Sunday, December 25 #2
The stranger asked her what she desired. She craved more of whatever he was doing. Even in his gentleness, Nicky possessed a passion that simmered before erupting into a crescendo. Then he took her to the Moon, the stars, and Venus, and back again before repeating his magic.
In the dark, this mystery man professed “I love you” and “I adore you” more often last night than she had ever heard from the “old” Nicky in her entire life.
She had long ago vowed never to have anything to do with him again, let alone touch her.
But the time in Nicky’s arms last night felt like an oasis—one that didn’t hover on a distant horizon but appeared miraculously, fingertips away.
There had been a passion that needed to be reclaimed from the shelf.
Yet this was far better than she recollected.
The “other” Nicky did just that, fulfilling all her desires and needs; he filled her with the satisfaction she had long sought and ultimately found. Nicky excelled last night, as her unbearable thirst for water was quenched.
If she fell in love with him in the dark, she lost it in the light.
As the sun rose this morning, the mirage vanished.
It had been an illusion, a dream, perhaps a vivid deception.
The reason for all this wasn’t what dwelled inside her or the man’s skill in the master bedroom suite, but the amount of liquor she drank.
She was furious with herself. And with Nicky, too.
Did he intentionally get her drunk so he could have his way with her? The “old” Nicky might have done that. Yet how could she blame him? He didn’t give her a transfusion of booze. No one had told her to drink that much except herself. This didn’t give Angelica a sense of ingratiation.
While beating herself up, the phone rang, interrupting her self-criticism. Angelica got up and checked the caller ID. She grumbled. Her Saturday-night lover.
She answered out of necessity, not high on the joy meter. “Hello.”
“I’m checking in on my favorite girl. Jack called to let me know you got home safely.”
“I’m okay. I’m just tired.” She sank into the desk chair.
No doubt grinning on the other end, Nicholas snickered, “That’s understandable, sweetheart, after the time we had christening sunrise.”
Angelica’s hand shot to her temple. Change the subject. “I want to tell you that your driver is a perfect gentleman, and I hope you appreciate him.”
“I thought I was a perfect gentleman, darling, and that you appreciated me. Didn’t I prove to you last night that I’ve changed and that I’m not the person I used to be? Isn’t that what this is about, Angel?”
‘Appreciation’ wasn’t what Angelica wanted, and ‘proving’ came in a close second. It was so superficial. What did she actually want from him? “Oh, Nicky, I’m so confused.”
“Sweetheart, I love you and want you to come back to the condo. Didn’t I make that clear enough last night?”
“Must we talk about this now?”
“Well, I know how to get you back.”
Already emotionally strained, Angelica faced yet another unknown. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll call in the IOU for that cabin of yours.”
Angelica gasped. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? You never said it was a loan.”
“I’m joking, dear. You know everything I have is yours. Even if you were to disappear from my life tomorrow, which I know won’t happen, I wouldn’t take a cent from you. I love you too much, darling.”
Angelica found comfort in his remark about keeping her home, but she wasn’t sure whether she’d stay in his life forever. To be honest, she knew no more today than she had before the trip to his penthouse.
She chose to comment on a certainty, saying, “I love my cabin and my fireplace. I don’t want to give that up.”
“I hoped you’d say that about me. If a fireplace is all it takes to make you happy, I’ll sell my condo and buy a house with a dozen fireplaces,” Nicholas shot back, chuckling.
Nicky had an answer for everything. Nevertheless, he would admit he didn’t always get his way with her anymore. That’s why she was here, and he was there. A lot needed to be sorted out.
“We need to talk about this, Nicky.”
He let out a hearty laugh. “Angel, I’ll always talk to you. Just not in the middle of the night or early in the morning?”
He was still hitting the bottle, packed with alcoholic bubbles.
She didn’t find his sense of humor appealing.
It irritated her. Angelica pictured a smirk on his face.
He might not feel much pain, but he was inflicting it on her.
She needed to increase her alcohol intake to achieve the opposite effect of what Nicky was experiencing—numbing.
That meant forgetting this conversation and their Christmas Eve activities.
A loud groan escaped her lips. “Nicky, I need to lie down. I’m getting a headache.”
His cheerful demeanor dissolved. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Would you like me to schedule an appointment with your neurologist?”
Works every time! Angelica wasn’t suffering from a headache, but she was confident one would arrive soon because “headaches” were coming from all directions.
“It’s the tension from the robbery, that’s all,” she explained, emphasizing a partial truth and all she was willing to share tonight.
“All right, go lie down. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you, darling.”
Wishing to end this discussion, her reply was short, distant, and truthful. “I know Nicky … I know.”
Angelica flopped onto the sofa, clutching her brow. “What have I done? He’ll never leave me alone now,” she moaned.
She yanked a throw pillow from the couch and hugged it to her chest. She wished someone were here to hold her, but it wouldn’t be Nicky or Matt. Her fingers brushed against the necklace. Oh, no! She must take it off before Garrett arrives.
* * *
Garrett rubbed his back as he pulled into her driveway.
This case might kill him. When he confronted Maclain MacAlvaney, known as “Double Mac,” the suspect in Samantha Owens’s killing, the man shoved him down a flight of stairs.
All right, it was only seven steps, but it caught him off guard, and the trip down to the concrete crawlspace floor in MacAlvaney’s house was rough and bumpy, not therapeutic. It wasn’t the detective’s finest hour.
If he could find a bright spot in this predicament, perhaps more embarrassment, the officer accompanying Garrett came to his aid and tased the man. As for the assailant, his charges were upgraded: resisting arrest and attempted murder of a law enforcement officer were added to the growing list.
As she parked behind Angelica’s SUV, Garrett got an eyeful when his truck’s headlights hit the dealer’s emblem on the back: Ponte Luxury Motors. Her vehicle cost more than his annual salary. Hell, he’s in trouble, or did it just reinforce—What would this classy, wealthy woman see in him? Nothing!
Before he even exited his truck, Angelica was standing outside his driver’s side window, a long way down for her petite frame, shivering in the cold night air.
“Merry Christmas, Garrett. Do you want to come in for coffee?”
He rolled down his window. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Angelica. I’d love some coffee; my day’s been nonstop,” Garrett said, totally elated. Rich or not, she valued his company. “You’re my last stop.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. On the holiday, no less. Come inside.” Angelica flicked her head toward the cabin and darted off with an intermittent limp.
What’s up with the limp? One more thing, he can’t ask her.
The warmth of the crackling pine logs, coughing up a scent that fragranced the room, hit Garrett when the door shut behind them, bringing a sense of coziness. “Feels good in here.”
“I love a—” Angelica’s wide eyes said as much as her words. “What happened to your face?”
His fingers reached the offended cheek, Mrs. Owens’s creation. “All I can say is that it was a difficult case.”
“I hope that doesn’t happen too often.”
“Not very often. An occupational hazard, just the same,” Garrett said as a twinge shot through his back and down his throbbing leg. A bit more often this week.
“Let me start the coffee,” she said, her voice effervescent. “Did you eat dinner? I don’t have much to offer, but I can make you soup and a sandwich if you haven’t.”
“Thank you, but I picked something up.” The ‘something’ amounted to a stale club sandwich in the front seat of his county car, washed down with lukewarm coffee. Dining anywhere with Angelica would have been much better.
Garrett watched as she pushed the coffee maker across the counter.
Unlike her skinny jeans, which she wore very well, she wore dress slacks and a red cashmere sweater.
The color suited her and brought out the highlights in her hair.
The outfit emphasized her curves beautifully, and she had plenty of them.
Even though she didn’t need it, Angelica was wearing quite a bit of makeup. She looked just as cute without it.
She stopped fussing with the coffee maker and turned toward the door. “Thank you for boarding up my door. I’ll call a repairman tomorrow.”
“No problem. I’m working on securing an apprenticeship.” Garrett eased himself onto a stool at her island, mindful of another back spasm. “Did you have a good holiday?”
Scooping ground coffee into the machine, she laughed over her shoulder. “It was okay. I went down to see my mother and visit a friend. How about you? Did you get any time off?”
“I worked the entire weekend on a case. Not a Merry Christmas for those involved.”
She shook her head and faced him with a frown. “I forgot people are suffering today. That’s so sad. I’ve been so blessed. All I had to deal with was a mother giving me a guilt trip,” Angelica said.
“I have one of those, too,” he replied with a chuckle.