He climbed in beside her and laughed. "You know, the show I'm getting here," his hand traced the hem of her skirt, which barely reached the top of her thigh-high stockings, "was worth every penny those flowers set me back. You have the most amazing legs."
"I don't know about amazing, but they're long. And right now, they're practically wrapped around my neck, so would you mind driving?"
"You expect me to be able to drive after putting that image in my head?"
Rosalie had to hand it to the man; he sure knew how to make a girl feel wanted. He had no problem driving. He drove the car and drove her crazy at the same time. Whenever his hand wasn't on the gearshift, it was on her thigh, tracing slow and lazy circles above her stocking but never moving closer to the one place she ached for him to touch. By the time they pulled up in front of her brownstone, she was ready for bed, but the last thing on her mind was sleep. All thoughts of her crazy family, her bad day, and her worse mood had slipped into oblivion.
Nick killed the engine and reached across her to get her door. They were face-to-face, and she fought the urge to nuzzle his neck.
Nick stilled for a moment before he continued. "I'll get the flowers. I need them to hide behind, if you get my drift. Bending down to get them might be a problem, though."
"Oh..." She reached over and ran her hand down the length of his fly. "Oh, my." It hadn't occurred to her that he might have been... uncomfortable, too.
"What? You think I can spend twenty minutes with you in a car in your sexy stockings and fuck-me shoes, with my hand up your skirt, and not have a hard-on? Sweetheart, I can barely be in the same room with you and not react like a kid at his first porn flick."
She opened the door, hoping the cool air would dissipate the heat building up in the car. "I'll get the flowers. You can use my briefcase." She cleared her throat, trying to rid her voice of its sudden huskiness. "I hope we don't run into Henry and Wayne."
Nick pressed closer, and the timbre of his voice made it clear the cool air wasn't doing the job. "If we do, they'll know I'm not compensating for anything."
There was no chance of that. They spent the evening making love. Nick wasn't one of those once-a-day-if-you're-lucky lovers. No, he was the good-for-two-in-a-row, every-few-hours kind of lover she'd only read about in romance novels. Nick proved those guys did exist. Thank God and Nora Roberts.
Saturday, they only ventured out once for food-if you called Bosco Chocolate Syrup food. Nick had the kitchen well stocked with all the other essentials-ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream. They'd had Bosco but had run out. Who knew she had such a taste for chocolate-especially after she learned it wasn't just for ice cream any more?
By Sunday morning, Rosalie had exhausted the poor guy into what looked like a coma. She and Dave took pity on him and went without him on their weekly excursion to the dog park and then to Fiorentino's Italian-Jewish deli and bakery. A perfect combination. Where else could you buy cannolis and knishes? She bought bagels, lox, and cream cheese with chives, plus dessert to go with a box of coffee, and headed home with plans to kiss Nick awake.
Nick rolled over and groaned at the sunlight streaming through the windows. His stomach muscles were sore. He'd never had enough sex to wear him out-until now. Either he was getting out of shape, or he'd never stayed long enough for round two. Or three. Or four. Damn. If he'd known that spending the weekend with a woman would be this good, he would have done it a while ago. But he'd never spent time with a woman who didn't get on his nerves before. Rosalie had her idiosyncrasies, an aversion to all things closet-related being at the top of the list, but they were more cute than annoying.
The bed dipped. He reached behind him and wrapped his arm around her waist. Oh, man. The waist wasn't Rosalie's. It was smaller and bonier. He let go, rolled over while grabbing the sheet that rode low on his hips, and sat up in a split second.
"Who the hell are you?"
The black-haired, dark-eyed pixie looked him over. Nick fought the urge to pull the sheet up higher. "So, you're Nick, just Nick, eh?" "Yes. And you are?" "Gina."
She stuck her delicate, manicured hand out to shake his, forcing Nick to switch the hand that held the sheet around him before shaking. If she hadn't looked so serious, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
She wore a tight, long-sleeved T-shirt tucked into spray-painted-on jeans, with a big belt that accentuated her small waist and anything but small bust. Damn, a few weeks ago, waking up to a woman who looked like Gina would have been a dream come true. Now, it was a nightmare.
Nick cleared his throat. "Do I know you?"
"No. But I know all about you, Nick, just Nick, so I'm not going to waste time with the niceties."
"I think that's pretty clear, considering the way you barged in here."
Gina rolled her eyes heavenward, as if she were praying for patience. "Whatever. Rosalie is entirely too nice and trusting, and you've got her eating out of your hand. I'm looking out for her, and I thought you should know I'm keeping my eye on you. You hurt her, and I'll cut your privates off with rusty nail clippers. That way it's slow, painful, and guaranteed to cause lockjaw. Any questions?"
"Yes. Would you mind waiting to threaten me until I'm dressed?"
"No, I don't mind." Gina sat and waited.
"Are you going to watch?"
"As if you have anything I haven't seen before." She turned her back and crossed her arms while she tapped the toe of an extremely dangerous-looking black boot with a heel thin enough to double as a weapon.
"Where's Lee?"
"She took Dave to the dog park. They'll be at least a half hour. They left a few minutes ago."
"She knew you were here?" Nick asked.
"Of course not. I waited for her to leave. She'd kill me if she knew I came to meet you."
"You mean you came to threaten me."
"Exactly. Are you going to get dressed, or are you going to sit there looking pretty? I need a cup of coffee."
"I do not look pretty. And the last thing I want is to be in bed, naked, with you. I'll get dressed as soon as you leave the room. You're welcome to help yourself to coffee. I'm sure you can figure out where everything is, since you figured out how to get in here."
"That was easy enough. I buzzed Henry and Wayne. They let me in. Rosalie never locks her door when she's not going out for long."
Gina turned and glared at him. "I'll go make coffee, but only because I'm dying for a cup. I don't like you. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal. I don't like you, either."
She nodded and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Nick got up, threw on sweats and a T-shirt, brushed his teeth, and was out before the coffee was ready. He hoped she made it strong. He was going to need a lot of caffeine to take on this pint-sized bulldog.
Nick reminded himself that this was his turf. He was going to make sure Gina knew it. He grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and peered into the fridge. "Do you take milk or half-and-half?
"Black."
"Sugar?"
"No."
He poured coffee and set a mug in front of her at the breakfast bar.
"So, Gina. You work for Lee."
"I work with Rosalie."
Nick took a sip of coffee and leaned against the counter. "Yeah, right." He meant for that to zing her. It didn't. "You don't need to worry about Lee. We're playing by her rules, not mine."
"Rosalie never played with fire before, rules or no rules. I don't want her getting burned."
"She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Besides, I'd never hurt her."
Gina gave him a long, long, long look-one that he was sure would make a weaker man squirm like a worm on the end of a hook. He stood stock-still. Damn, for a tiny thing, she sure packed a punch. Nick couldn't afford to lose, so he stared her down, using his height advantage, though truth be told, it didn't seem to have any effect on her.
He couldn't help but admire her. It took balls of steel to walk in on a sleeping, naked man twice her size and threaten him. Especially a man she'd never met before.
She was all that and looked as dangerous as a crate of dynamite near a bonfire.
Gina broke eye contact and checked her watch. "Okay, as long as we understand each other, I'll go. Remember what I said about rusty nail clippers."
"How could I forget?"
"I trust we'll keep this little tete-a-tete between us?" "Fine."
"I still don't like you."
Nick smiled for the first time since he saw her. He knew she was kidding. Not about castration-she was dead serious about that-but she was kidding about not liking him. It would take a bigger woman than her to resist a Romeo. Hell, the only woman who had was Rosalie. For kicks, Nick winked at her to piss her off. "I still don't like you, either."
Gina laughed. "Behave, Nick, just Nick. I would really hate to have to hurt you." She picked up a black leather trench coat and slid into it.
"I'd tell you to behave," Nick smiled, "but I think there's little chance of that."
"You're pretty perceptive. It's been... interesting."
She gave him a quick salute and walked out as silently as she'd entered.
Chapter Thirteen.
Rosalie had missed Gina's visit by moments. Nick didn't know if he was pleased that she hadn't caught Gina or not. He hated keeping things from her, but at this point, what difference did one more little lie of omission make?
Rosalie closed the door behind her, and Dave ran to him, dragging his leash. Nick bent down to unhook it and was putting it away when he caught Rosalie smiling at him. It wasn't the usual pasted-on smile. She smiled her genuine smile, the one that slipped out when she didn't have her guard up. The one that made him feel- what? Good? Yeah, the one that made him feel good.
He found himself smiling back. He hoped he didn't look as idiotic as he felt, standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face, but how could he help it? She looked, well... adorable. He'd be happy to spend the day doing nothing but looking at her. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and her hair was windblown. She was wearing his old bomber jacket, which was huge on her, and holding an armload of bags and boxes.
"I hope you didn't make breakfast. I stopped at Fiorentino's. Mrs. F. must have been in the back. I think we're safe from my mother's wrath."
She dumped the bags on the table, spun around, and ran into Nick. He caught her arms to steady her.
She blew the bangs out of her eyes and tipped her head back to meet his gaze. "You always do that to me."
"I know." He kissed her, warming her lips under his. "How was your walk?"
Rosalie unzipped her coat and threw it on the back of the chair. "Good. We ran into Tommy and Jasmine. Have you met them yet? Dave has a crush on Jasmine, a cute little basset. It's hysterical."
Nick took the coat and hung it in the closet while he listened.
"She has him totally wrapped. He drools all over her, literally. We had to towel her off. It was gross." She pulled out plates and a cup, poured herself coffee from the insulated box, and topped his off. After adding creamer to both cups, she set them on the table. "I think Jasmine watches for us out their front window. We take them to the dog park and let them run around together."
Nick took juice from the fridge, got glasses, and handed her one. Rosalie dug through the bags, bit into the first chocolate-covered doughnut she found, and continued talking with a full mouth. "Do you want a bagel and lox, or pastry?"
He had to laugh. She had chocolate all over her mouth. Hell, she even had a spot on her nose. He handed her a napkin. "Bagel first, dessert later."
"Spoilsport. What do you have planned today?"
"I was going to see if Dave might want to try running again."
Dave stretched out under the table, rolled over, and groaned.
Rosalie laughed. "I wouldn't count on it."
"It looks as if I'll have to go it alone then."
"I think he's more the walking type. The only time he runs is when there's food involved."
"Tell me about it." Nick went back into the kitchen and got silverware. "The Islanders are playing Montreal. It's a home game. I thought we could watch it. How about you? Any plans?"
"I'm supposed to go to my parents' for supper. You know, the weekly torture. I could get out of it."
"Is that what you want?" Nick passed her a plate, sat down, and cut his bagel.
"I don't know. It's not like I'm going to be able to avoid my father forever. I might as well face him sooner rather than later. Things like this tend to get more and more ominous the longer they're avoided."
"It sounds as if you're trying to talk yourself into going."
"I guess I am. I don't know how I'm going to sit across from him and act as if I hadn't caught him playing tonsil hockey with the puttana" puttana"
"Do you want me to go with you?" Nick heard himself ask the question, but it took a second to register that he actually had. The look on Rosalie's face took away any doubt. She couldn't have been any more shocked than he was.
"What, are you nuts? No, I don't want you to come with me! That's all I need. They'd take one look at you, and my dad's screwing around would be the least of my worries."
Nick called himself every name in the book. He should have been relieved that he didn't have to do the "meet the parents" thing. But did the thought of him meeting her family have to horrify her so? It wasn't as if he hadn't already met her mother, though he'd been angry, and he was sure he hadn't shown her his best side. Hell, who was he kidding? He'd thrown her out of the apartment.
Rosalie went on fixing her bagel as if she hadn't insulted him. He watched as her comment registered, and she thought about what she'd said. She looked up from her plate guilty as hell.
"Gosh, Nick, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It's my family, they're... well, if you don't want them to start planning a wedding, you'll stay clear. Besides, they already think I'm some kind of puttana. puttana. God, it's like a cosmic joke, isn't it? Bringing you home with me will only make matters worse." God, it's like a cosmic joke, isn't it? Bringing you home with me will only make matters worse."
"Stop already. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking." He got up and drained his juice in one gulp. "I'm going for a run."
He went into the bedroom to put on his socks. Ignoring her, he passed the table on his way to the door and stepped into his running shoes. He bent down to tie them.
Rosalie came up behind him and touched his shoulder. "Nick?"
He stood and took his Polar fleece jacket off the hook next to Dave's leash. "It's fine, Lee. Forget about it. I'll be back in awhile."
Running had always been like therapy for Nick. An escape. Only now, he didn't do it to escape arrest; he escaped his world and all its problems. He concentrated on breathing, the slap of his shoes against the pavement, and the feeling of freedom when he hit the zone.
Somehow, running had a way of making things clearer. After many a run, he'd found that somewhere beneath all the everyday problems and trials that kept him occupied, he'd already made the important decision he'd been mulling over. He just hadn't recognized it. Today was different. The only thing he saw was how close he'd come to getting his ass caught in the string of lies he'd so neatly woven. The string was beginning to resemble a noose.