Dockside by Susan Wiggs Page B

spellbound, intoxicated, consumed by urgency. He paused to grope in his pocket, coming up with a condom, which made Nina weak with relief. Thank goodness he’d spared her the embarrassment.
    So this was it, then. Here and now, in the shadowy gazebo with the sprinkler system hissing all around them, the veil of secrecy was swept aside. She wrapped her arms around him and dropped her head back, opening herself to him, and then they kissed and fit themselves together, and it was more incredible than she ever could have imagined. More uncomfortable and awkward, too, but with a sweetness that brought tears to her eyes. And quicker. Laurence almost instantly made a surprised, strangled sound, and then shuddered, covering her like a blanket. Then they both lay still, their hearts beating as one, their bodies still joined together.
    After a while, he drew back. “You all right?” he whispered.
    She was intrigued, feeling as though she teetered on the edge of something big. “I’m all right.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—”
    “Hush. I wanted to. Maybe we can have another go at it.”
    “I only brought one condom and—oh, shit.”
    He wasn’t as experienced as he seemed. Somehow, the condom hadn’t gone where it was supposed to go. “Damn,” he said. “I’m sorry. I swear, I don’t have a disease or anything—”
    “Me neither.” Suddenly embarrassed, Nina jumped up and struggled into her wet clothes. The issue of the failed condom put an end to the evening’s romance.
    Laurence must have felt the same way as he shook out his clothes and put them on. “Hey, I feel bad,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    “Nothing’s hurt, but I’d better go,” she said, suddenly eager to get away. “My car’s at the far end of the parking lot.” Another lie. She’d brought her bike.
    Carrying their shoes in their hands, they crossed the parking lot. “Tell me your phone number,” Laurence said. “I’ll call you.”
    She was tempted, but only momentarily. The kind of lies she was telling tonight couldn’t be sustained for long. “I don’t think so.”
    “You’re probably right.” Relief rang clearly in his voice.
    “And you’re awfully quick to agree with me.” She was only half teasing.
    “Look, I think you’re really something, but I got to think of the future. I’m a kid from the projects. If this doesn’t work out for me, well, let’s just say the options aren’t good. I better stick with the academy. As soon as I start, I take an oath of honor.”
    “And I’m, like, this huge stain on your oath.”
    “No, but—”
    “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m not going to cause any trouble for you, and that’s a promise.”
    “You’re no trouble, girl.”
    Just then, a shadow loomed over them.
    She stopped walking and looked up. Uh-oh. Maybe Laurence had spoken too soon. “Greg Bellamy,” she said with forced brightness. “Fancy meeting you here.”

    Greg stood over the fallen cadet, wondering if he’d broken anything. It had all happened so fast. One minute he was getting a sweater from the car for his sister. The next, he was driving his fist into some cadet’s jaw. The guy was gigantic, but Greg had the element of surprise. Shock was more like it. Shock had cut off the oxygen to his brain, causing him to lose the ability to judge whether or not he was right to clean the guy’s clock.
    One thing he knew for certain, he definitely had a problem with a West Point cadet banging Mrs. Romano’s underage daughter. Greg had met her that one time up at the camp, but he couldn’t remember her name. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was still a kid. Yet there was no mistaking that just-got-laid look of these two—the damp clothes buttoned crooked, grass in their hair, the sheepish, sated expressions on both their faces.
    The girl’s face changed instantly, sharpening with accusation as she glared at Greg. “He’s hurt,” she said. “You