And Then He Kissed Me

Nick was the first man Abby had ever almost kissed. Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Copyright

Nick was the first man Abby had ever almost kissed.

Technically it wasn’t her first time, but Nick was a man. Somehow she knew he would have done the deed with confidence, finesse and thoroughness. He’d made her pulse pound, her heart race, and stolen the breath from her lungs without even touching his mouth to hers. Oh, how she wished he had!

If she wasn’t careful, he would see that. What if he took her up on the invitation? She would be out of the frying pan into the fire.

How could she keep him from seeing how very much she wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers?

Dear Reader,

Compelling, emotionally charged stories featuring honorable heroes, strong heroines and the deeply rooted conflicts they must overcome to arrive at a happily-ever-after are what make a Silhouette Romance novel come alive. Look no further than this month’s offerings for stories to sweep you away....

In Johnny’s Pregnant Bride, the engaging continuation of Carolyn Zane’s THE BRUBAKER BRIDES, an about-to-bemarried cattle rancher honorably claims another woman—and another man’s baby—as his own. This month’s VIRGIN BRIDES title by Martha Shields shows that when The Princess and the Cowboy agree to a marriage of convenience, neither suspects the other’s real identity...or how difficult not falling in love will be! In Truly, Madly, Deeply, Elizabeth August delivers a powerful transformation tale, in which a vulnerable woman finds her inner strength and outward beauty through the love of a tough-yet-tender single dad and his passel of kids.

And Then He Kissed Me by Teresa Southwick shows the romantic aftermath of a surprising kiss between best friends who’d been determined to stay that way. A runaway bride at a crossroads finds that Weddings Do Come True when the right man comes along in this uplifting novel by Cara Colter. And rounding out the month is Karen Rose Smith with a charming story whose title says it all: Wishes, Waltzes and a Storybook Wedding.

Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

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And Then He Kissed Me

Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Karen Taylor Richman, for your unwavering support

and steady guidance. My profound gratitude.

And Joan Marlow Golan, for understanding my vision

and giving me the opportunity to write this book.

My sincere thanks.

TERESA SOUTHWICK

is a native Californian with ties to each coast, since she was conceived in the East and born in the West. Living with her husband of twenty-five years and two handsome sons, she is surrounded by heroes. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof and, above all—happy endings.

Teresa also writes historical romance novels under the same name.

Chapter One

“No kissing, Nick.”

Abigail Ridgeway hurried past the wall of TV screens, all displaying the same Sunday football game.

“C’mon, Ab. What harm can a little kiss do?”

She stopped abruptly and turned. Six feet, two inches of Nick Marchetti made contact with some red-light parts of her five-foot-two-inch frame. He was her boss first, her friend second, and a hunk and a half she’d long ago placed a distant third.

She put a safe space between them now and looked up, way up. “This is not negotiable,” she said. “There will be no hanky-panky, and that’s final.”

“Your expectations are unrealistic.”

“Maybe. But you talked me into having this sweetsixteen birthday party for my sister. I should at least get to set the ground rules,” she said.

“Okay. But I’m warning you. A guy always wants what he can’t have.”

She grinned at him. “Is that personal experience talking? The man who has everything? When did anyone ever tell you no?”

Abby hadn’t thought his eyes could get any blacker, but they did. Intensity vibrated through him as he ran a hand through his short dark hair. His nose was straight, well-formed, and the wonderful masculine angles and planes of his face seemed to harden for a moment. She wondered what button she’d innocently put her finger on and how she could push it again. That was a wicked thought, and she made a mental note to work on her contrary streak.

But around Nick she sometimes couldn’t help it. He was always so self-possessed that it was hard not to cheer when she discovered a chink in his armor. He had everything: beauty, brains, body, booty—as in more money than he knew what to do with. Anything that brought him down to the level of peons like herself seemed fair.

“This isn’t about me, Abby. It’s about Sarah. A girl only turns sweet sixteen once. It’s a milestone. There should be some fanfare,” he said, neatly circumventing her question. “Even though she asked me to convince you to let her have a party, I know you want it to be a success.”

He’d turned the conversation back to her. In the five years she’d known him, she’d learned he was good at that. He had elevated the sidestep to an art form. “Okay. But Sarah is my responsibility. I’m her guardian. If my parents were still alive, maybe they would go along with your theory that a spirited game of spin the bottle is practically carved in stone at a teenage party. I disagree.”

“Maybe you’re right to be cautious. It’s a well-known fact that sixteen-year-old, hormone-crazed boys have the hots for older women.” He tapped her nose. “That would be you.”

She frowned up at him. “Is this some new management technique? Did you learn this at that seminar? Fractured reverse psychology?”

“You’re not buying it?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Call me crazy, but I think kissing games among teenagers that I’ll be responsible for is asking for trouble. Just a guess, instinct really. But that’s all I’ve got.”

“You’ve got me, pal,” he answered, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit slacks. His sinfully expensive matching jacket parted with the movement, revealing a costly, crisp white shirt that hinted at the washboard stomach beneath it.

“Right,” she said, forcing her wayward thoughts in a different direction. “You’re awfully dressed up for late Sunday afternoon. I thought you were supposed to be off. Are you working today? Or do you have a date?”

“Both,” he said.

Nick Marchetti was a notorious workaholic. She glanced sideways at her reflection in the blank bigscreen TV next to her that doubled for a mirror. Smoothing her own rumpled suit skirt, she was abruptly reminded that she was on a break from work. Nick wasn’t the boss that she reported to on a daily basis. He was her boss, as in president of Marchetti’s Inc., big kahuna of the whole corporation.

She brushed a strand of her short blond bob back into place, fluffed her straight bangs, then turned and met Nick’s gaze. “I didn’t realize you had plans for the evening or that you were working. Was there something specific you needed when you stopped in to the restaurant?”

He hesitated only a moment before answering with a shake of his head. “Just the usual.”

She nodded. “Lucky for me you were free to help with my shopping. Although I have to get back to the restaurant soon. Can we table the party-games discussion to another time? Right now I need the expertise you so generously offered. This electronic stuff is confusing. I don’t know a woofer from a hooter.”

“I think you mean tweeter,” he said, his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh.

“See? What I know about these little black boxes with their digital readouts would fit on the head of a pin.”

“Well I certainly feel cheap, degraded and disposable.” His voice dripped with hurt feelings. He was such a faker.

She put her hand on her hip. “What are you talking about?”

“You want my expertise on electronic stuff, but not teenagers.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I feel so used.”

She wanted to laugh, slug him gently in the arm and tell him to stuff a sock in it. But she was afraid that would be too forward. Nick made it easy to fall into friendly and familiar behavior. But Abby had an unbreakable law: always remember your position. Translation: never under any circumstances overstep your boundaries. There was only one problem—she was never quite sure where the line was. Maybe because of their shared history.

She had Nick to thank for her very first waitressing job. When she was eighteen, her parents had died in an automobile accident. Sarah had been eleven then. With no relatives to help, Abby had suddenly and shockingly become responsible for herself, as well as mother and father to her little sister. Although a total stranger, Nick gave her a job when no one else would. She’d walked into the restaurant he was managing at the time and asked for work. Abby had vowed to be his best employee ever, and so far she’d done well She had worked her way through the ranks to assistant-manager-in-training of the local Marchetti’s. She never let herself forget her promise to do him proud.

At all times, she tried to maintain a professional demeanor around him. But then he would say or do something outrageous, and she would forget that he was her boss. The buck stopped with him. He signed her paycheck. Actually his brother Luke did, but it was almost the same thing. It was okay for him to think of them as friends, but she knew better.

“The party is a month away,” she said, instead of the teasing words on the tip of her tongue. “We have plenty of time to debate the issue of spin the bottle. But this sale is over today. I promised Sarah a CD player for her birthday. Good, bad or indifferent, I need to make a decision. Are you going to help me or—” she glanced at the milling salesmen “—let the circling sharks move in for the kill?”

He took her elbow and spun her toward the far wall filled with disc players and speakers. “You’d best thank your lucky stars that chivalry is alive and well.” When she didn’t say anything, he looked down at her and said, “What? No pithy comeback?”

She shook her head. “When you’re right, you’re right. I appreciate your help. If you’d told me you had a dinner date when you dropped in to the restaurant, I wouldn’t have imposed.”

“You’re not imposing.”

“You’re sure I’m not keeping you?”

“Nope. I’ve got plenty of time.”

She looked at the display of equipment. “Should I go cheap, expensive or middle of the road? Should I sacrifice quality for features? Or get top-notch basic for the least amount of money?”

Nick pointed to a unit. “This is a good brand. It has all the features Sarah could possibly want. Unless she’s missing the same electronic gene that you are. I think the cost is reasonable.”

Abby’s eyes widened as she looked at the price tag. “Maybe it’s reasonable for a Marchetti. But it’s way out of the Ridgeway budget—even at forty percent off.”

“I could—”

“That’s very nice of you, Nick. But I can’t allow you to do it.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Excuse me, I shouldn’t have interrupted. Speak your piece, then I’ll refuse your offer to buy it for Sarah.”

“I was going to suggest that you let me chip in. I don’t know what to get her. You would be doing me a favor.”

Abby knew this was one of his charitable gestures. He always found a way to make it seem as if it wasn’t, but she had his number. His gift for creative maneuvering was probably the reason he’d taken Marchetti’s from a successful restaurant to the fastest-growing chain in the Southwest. She wasn’t sure why his benevolence suddenly rankled. Maybe because she was this close to finishing her degree, and would soon—finally—feel more independent. She didn’t need his help. Along with her wicked streak, she would have to work on this inclination toward ingratitude that had only lately reared its ugly head.

Nick had been there for her when she had desperately needed someone. She had always tried to take care of things by herself, but he had never refused a request for help. Why did she now feel the need to do things on her own?

“I’ll get the less expensive one,” she said, pointing to another model by the same manufacturer. “It’s a big-sister thing. I want to buy this for Sarah.”

“What am I going to get her? I don’t know much about sixteen-year-old girls.”

“You knew she was dying to have a party.”

“Kids love parties. That’s not gender-specific. Besides, she told me. But the pressure of finding the right gift for a girl—”

“I’m sure Madison would be happy to help you pick something appropriate.” Madison. A sophisticated name for a classy woman who was also beautiful, unusual—and Nick’s girlfriend.

Abby had often seen them together. In addition to work-related functions, he frequently took her to dinner at the restaurant where Abby worked. He said he could always count on her to make sure the service and food were flawless. Abby figured he was showing off the beautiful, brilliant, back-East-educated Madison. She couldn’t remember any woman in his life lasting as long as Ms. Wainright.

He had a funny look on his face. “Why don’t you like her? Madison’s a class act.”

When had he learned to read her mind, Abby wondered? It wasn’t that she disliked the other woman. Just that Madison left her feeling woefully inadequate. Madison was everything that Abby wasn’t. She bent over a pile of boxes to check model numbers, in order to pick out the disc player she’d chosen. “I didn’t say I disliked Madison.”

“No, but your tone spoke volumes about your feelings. Would you care to put them into words?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.”

“Is it safe to say that you believe she’s not my type?”

“Yes.”

“Which means I’m not a class act?” He raised one black eyebrow, but humor sparkled in his gaze.

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“In the six months Madison and I have dated, she’s been nothing less than charming, beautiful, smart and successful. She would be an asset to any man.”

She would certainly be his equal: beauty, brains, body, booty. But he was right. For some reason Abby couldn’t put her finger on, she did think Madison Wainright was wrong for him.

Abby often wondered how a great guy like Nick Marchetti, who was good-looking enough to tempt a card-carrying spinster, had managed to stay single. Since he’d introduced the subject, she brought up a question she just couldn’t hold back.

“So why haven’t you asked Madison to marry you?”

“Is there a rule somewhere that says if a man admires positive attributes in a woman, he has to propose to her?”

“Whoa. Just a little defensive, aren’t we?”

“Nope. Not me.” He looked sheepish. “Maybe. But only because my mother and sister have been on my case.”

“Ever since Rosie got married and had her baby, you’ve softened on the settling-down issue. I get the impression that you’re thinking about it.”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“So when are you going to ask Madison?”

He leaned a shoulder against the display rack and folded his arms across his chest. “When are you going to settle down?”

“I’ve been settled down since I was eighteen. I’m heading toward footloose and fancy-free. In slightly less than two years, Sarah will graduate from high school and go to college. I see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“You’re still not dating, are you?”

Abby wondered how he could know that, when she was so careful to keep her personal and business lives separate. If he hadn’t shown up at the restaurant and insisted, she wouldn’t be shopping with him now. How could he know she didn’t go out?

Then it hit her. Sarah didn’t work for him and had no compunction about calling him up at the drop of a fingernail. She bent his ear with anything and everything that popped into her head. As far as Abby knew, he didn’t mind. She figured if he did, any man who stood at the helm of a growing corporation could certainly clear the decks of one teenage girl if he wanted to. And Sarah was a talker. If talking was an Olympic event, her sister would take the gold.

“It’s not like I can wiggle my nose and a man appears in a puff of smoke,” Abby said. Now who was getting defensive, she thought, hearing that note in her voice.

“You can’t tell me that men don’t show an interest in an attractive woman like you.”

She tried not to glow at his compliment, but was only partially successful. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Okay. I get the picture. You still shut them down cold. Let me give you a tip, pal. Guys need a little encouragement.”

“Look, Nick,” Abby said. She took a deep breath, trying to tamp down her irritation. If he had been just her friend, she would have given him an earful. But he was her boss, and she was struggling for a politically correct response. “Between work and school and raising Sarah, I don’t have time right now. Once she’s in college, it will be my turn. I’ll have my degree in business. Right after I do footloose and fancy-free, next on my list is settling down.”

Wait a minute. She had brought up the settling down subject—about him. Why was she suddenly defending herself? Oh, he was smooth. She’d hardly noticed him put her on the hot seat. Darn, he was good at shifting his backside out of the frying pan and putting hers in it.

“All work and no play,” he said seriously.

“Okay, so Abby’s a dull girl.” She was teetering on the edge of the line she’d drawn, uncomfortable discussing herself with him. Two could play at turning the tables. “Are you going to bring Madison to Sarah’s party?”

“Is she invited? I’m not even sure you want me. I was an afterthought.”

“Nick, I’ve already explained that I didn’t ask you to help me with the party because you’re too busy.”

“Is that all?” He frowned slightly.

“What else? Except that if I could afford the Green Bay Packers defensive line, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“So I’m a poor substitute for your first choice?”

“No. But you work cheap. What about Madison? Would you like to bring her?”

“You almost sound sincere about wanting her there.”

“It would be interesting to watch her play spin the bottle with a bunch of sixteen-year-old boys sporting sweaty palms and zits.”

“Chaperones don’t have to play. They referee.” He looked at her, then raised one eyebrow. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Abby answered honestly. She wasn’t sure how he’d figured that out, but he was right. She admired and respected Madison very much. Which made the fact that she didn’t think Madison Wainright was the woman for him even more puzzling.

“So Madison is invited?” he asked.

“She doesn’t have to be invited. You’re allowed to bring a date.”

“I will, if you will.” he said.

“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered.

A few hours after their shopping trip, Nick stood in front of Abby’s door. He had finished up his work early and didn’t want to go home and kill time waiting for his date. He wasn’t due to pick Madison up for an hour so he’d decided to stop at Abby’s.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Partly because of work issues he hadn’t discussed with her. But mostly her remark about not bringing a date to her sister’s party. A pretty girl like Abby should have guys beating a path to her door, but he was the only one there. And the sidewalk didn’t look any the worse for wear.

Her apartment was situated in a large complex with lots of shrubs and walkways. The entrance was tucked away between the stairway to the upper level and her storage unit.

He remembered helping her find the place after he’d advised her to sell her parents’ home. It seemed best. She couldn’t swing a mortgage payment, and she wouldn’t take money from him. The proceeds went into trust for the two sisters. Abby had a lot of responsibility to shoulder and selling gave her freedom from the upkeep and burden of a house, as well as a bit of financial security.

That was good. Because the one thing he’d learned to count on from Abby was pride. No handouts. She wanted to do things on her own, and she had.

He pushed the button to ring the bell, and moments later Abby opened the door. Surprise at seeing him made her big blue eyes bigger and bluer.

“Nick. I thought you were having dinner with Madison.”

“I am. In about an hour.”

“This is a long way from her high-rent district. What are you doing here?”

“Just killing time,” he said, unable to come up with anything he could share. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Of course not. Sorry.” She stepped back so that he could enter.

He surveyed the living room as she closed the door behind him. It wasn’t large, but definitely homey and comfortable. A green-and-beige plaid couch and matching love seat sat at right angles to each other in the center. On one wall was an entertainment center with stereo, et cetera. He’d hooked it all up for her during an electronic crisis. It was one of the few times she’d called him. She didn’t know what to plug in where and was afraid she’d blow up her new VCR or old TV. There was a small dining area adjacent to the tiny kitchen. He knew the rest of the place consisted of two bedrooms and baths, plus a laundry area with apartment-size appliances.

The walls were filled with collages of family photos, knickknacks and inexpensive prints. Prominently displayed was a bronze-colored metal plaque proclaiming, What Doesn’t Kill Me Will Make Me Stronger.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Abby asked.

He shook his head. “Is Sarah here?”

“No. She went to the movies with a group of friends.”

“Any of them guys?” he asked.

“If they were I’d be clothed in camouflage and doing surveillance. I wouldn’t be standing here dressed like this,” she said with an expansive hand gesture that indicated her work attire.

She was wearing the same suit he’d seen her in earlier, but it was a more casual, sexier look. The jacket was off, as were her high heels. There she stood in her stocking feet, a run creeping its way up from her shapely ankle. Her powder-blue silk blouse looked disheveled, half in, half out of the waistband of her navy skirt. Tousled straight blond hair surrounded her oval face. She looked as if she’d just engaged in a heavy necking session with a guy who had rounded first and was fast approaching second base.

The image took him completely by surprise. He’d never thought of her like that before. What surprised him more was his own reaction to the idea of her being with a man.

Irritation bordering on anger.

Correction, he thought. He wasn’t angry at the idea of a man in her life, just the concept of that man actually reaching second base with her.